Sparks Fly, Tires Skid
by orchidvines
Summary: Elizabeth and Darcy meet at the scene of a car crash. They do not politely exchange insurance information. Modern AU. Completed.
1. Traffic: Part I

In an odd way, life seemed destined to work in pairs. Two peas in a pod. Two sisters. Two best friends. A two-way intersection. Two dented vehicles. Two unfathomably angry opponents. Two complacent, mildly flirtatious sidekicks. Two pigeons observing this whole fiasco from a couple of power cable lines across the street.

Two.

"You see these two fists?" Elizabeth Bennet asked sweetly. "These two fists are about to embed themselves in your pretty _face_ if you don't step off."

"Are you threatening me?" demanded Will Darcy. He was all suit, strong jaw and icy blue eyes.

"I don't know, I thought it was pretty obvious," she shrugged theatrically, then wheeled around. "About as obvious as my _left turn-signal_, you jackass!"

"Maybe if your windows weren't tinted _twice the shade of the legal limit_—!" Darcy glared.

"Those were a gift!"

"Charlotte's gifts totally reflect that her father was in the CIA," Jane, her sister, nodded solemnly. "It's a little shady."

"_Shady_," the ginger man beside her laughed. She grinned at him and he smiled back and up in the sky, two cherubs decided to clink halos and sing in heavenly chorus.

Lizzy took the opportunity to stare, open-mouthed, at her sister. Jane was magical. She could pick up guys at an accident scene in the middle of bumblefuck Pennsylvania. Props had to be awarded. A pageantry ribbon and a crown, perhaps. Jane's strawberry blonde hair would look good with some sparkle.

"Charlie, would you stop flirting, this girl has _totaled_ my _car_."

"Oh, it's only a scratch."

"Then where the fuck is my fucking right headlight?" Darcy demanded.

"Up your _ass_, clearly!" Lizzy shouted.

"It's over there," Jane smiled politely and pointed to the shiny Mercedes headlight lying in a circle of debris just under the traffic light.

"Oh, that's perfect."

They had been bickering for a solid fifteen minutes. What had started as the scramble for safety with the standard "Are you okay?" and "I'm so sorry!" and "I'm so glad we're not hurt!" took a turn for the angry and presumptuous when Will Darcy decided to accuse her. Then it became ridiculous.

"It was _your_ fault!" insisted Elizabeth. "Just own up to it. It's Saturday morning and this street is deserted and you have _no_ witnesses to back up your web of _lies_."

Charlie shuffled his feet awkwardly.

"No offense," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he waved his hand.

"Ask anybody! You didn't have your turn signal on," Darcy argued, "and I _obviously_ had the right of way."

"What state regulations are you _living_ by, Suit Boy, these aren't the dirt roads of Uganda!"

"Are you insinuating that I'm stupid?"

"Yes!"

"Thank goodness we're all alive. It's so nice out today, don't you think?" Jane asked Charlie, burying her hands in the pockets of her jeans.

Charlie squinted up at the sky, "It truly is. You know, I hear there's a meteor shower tonight."

"Oh, really? I _love_ astronomy."

"Me too!"

"Do you get off on being this pompous?" asked Elizabeth, standing up on her tiptoes to imitate his posture. "_Miss, are you fucking blind? I demand your insurance information. This is unacceptable. Full retribution!_"

"I did _not_ say that," Darcy scoffed.

"Bro, you kind of did."

"_Charlie_."

"What?"

Darcy turned back to the brunette. "_No_, to answer your question, I do not _get off_ on being this pompous."

"You then proceeded to insult my _appearance_," Elizabeth crossed her arms tightly over her chest.

"Dude," Charlie shook his head solemnly.

Darcy gave her the casual once-over. "OK, to your credit, you're prettier up close. But at first glance it's nothing but skinny jeans and university sweatshirts and the ponytail and _do you ever let your hair down?_"

"No, because keeping it tied back makes me more aerodynamic when I kick your ass."

Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am never going to get to Netherfield on time."

"I can kick you in your nether _regions_ on time, if you'd like."

"Lizzy honey, we can do without the assault charges," cooed Jane.

"Whatever."

Charlie was laughing so hard that he had started to wipe back tears. Darcy glowered at him. "Thanks for having my back."

"Oh man, _sane_ people would have just exchanged insurance card information by now and called 9-1-1."

"What an excellent idea!" Jane clapped her hands in delight. "Lizzy, give these two young men your insurance information, _s'il vous plait_."

"I'll give you my card," Darcy muttered, reaching inside his blazer pocket and procuring a crisp white business card.

Lizzy took it from him and examined it with a critical eye. "William Darcy, Asshole Extraordinaire and Badass M.C."

"What?" Darcy looked over her shoulder. His expression crumpled in distaste. "Ha _ha_, you're hilarious."

Lizzy smirked and wrote down her phone number and insurance company on the back of his card. Will wrote his information on the back of an old Victoria's Secret receipt.

"5 for $25 Panty Sale?" Charlie lifted an eyebrow.

"It was a good day at the mall," Jane shrugged.

After contact information had been exchanged, Will Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet proceeded to glare, tight-lipped, at each other.

"Is this eye-sex or intimidation?" Charlie asked breezily.

"Is there a difference at this point?" Jane muttered.

"You'll be hearing from my lawyer," Darcy said to Lizzy.

"You won't be hearing _at all_ once I'm through with you."

"Lizzy sweetie, can we not rack up a list of charges, that would be _so_ much better this time around," Jane soothed, squeezing her sister's shoulder.

"Are you a bounty hunter, by any chance?" asked Charlie. "You just seem particularly tiny but ferocious."

"She's actually a Kindergarten teacher."

Darcy snorted. "Sculpting the minds of America's youth! They'll all be brainwashed sociopaths by the time you let them out."

"_If_ I let them out," Lizzy said unpleasantly. Darcy stopped smiling.

"She's scary for such a small person, I understand," Jane nodded.

"Yeah well, I bet you're some corporate honcho who pisses on dreams and cripples souls," Elizabeth accused.

"That's _almost_ accurate," Charlie grinned.

Darcy scowled, "You don't know me."

"I know you don't abide by traffic laws."

"Can we discuss this somewhere else, perhaps?" he said, exhausted. "I've already missed my appointment."

"I have a lunch reservation at Cesarino's," Charlie checked his watch and looked up, gauging their reactions. "Does one o'clock sound okay? I'm sure they can extend the reservation to four people."

"That sounds lovely!" Jane smiled.

"I am not going _anywhere_ with this suited asshole _yuppie_—" Lizzy flailed her hands.

"I'm _hungry_," her sister whined. "Spin class leaves me famished."

"Wait, who's driving?" Charlie asked.

"Whose car sucks less?" Darcy sighed, resigned.

The four of them whirled around to inspect the damage. Darcy's black Mercedes was dented at the hood and yes, missing a headlight. Lizzy's Honda Accord had a beautiful shiner near the trunk and left tire but was otherwise maneuverable.

"Lizzy's!"

"Hers."

"Satan's Kindergarten Teacher."

Lizzy rolled her eyes and took her keys out of her purse. "_Fine_. But you need to call somebody to tow your ride."

"On it," Charlie had already gotten out his cell phone.

She sighed, "Come on, then."

"I call shotgun," Darcy said smugly. "It's the _least_ you can do."

"Well, you better buckle up, Suit," Lizzy smirked.

"Or what?" he arched an eyebrow.

"Or you might just _accidentally_ rocket out of the windshield."

Jane laughed out loud and then sobered instantly. "I'm sorry. That's not funny at all, is it?"

Darcy stared at her.


	2. Traffic: Part II

Cesarino plans fell through. It wasn't that the restaurant could not make accommodations for Charles Bingley and his friends, but there was the matter of insurance hassles and the towing of Will Darcy's vehicle. Also, Lizzy had been on the phone with her lawyer for twenty minutes ("Pam Gardiner thinks it was probably 50-50," she muttered to Jane). They ended up at a Red Robin three hours later, crammed into a booth.

Will Darcy was not making any attempts to conceal his staring across the table.

Lizzy raised her green eyes at him challengingly. "Take a Polaroid."

Charlie was speaking politely to the waitress, "Touch of pink. Not too dry."

"Same for me, thanks," Jane closed her menu and passed it across the table.

"And for you, miss?" the waitress turned to Elizabeth.

"The pasta primavera, please," Lizzy smiled and handed over her menu. "But no zucchini. They taste like mashed grasshoppers."

"And you've eaten grasshoppers," Darcy said dryly.

"Um, I have. They're high in fiber."

He hesitated and looked at her sister. "I can't tell if she's joking or not."

"You will never know," Jane shook her head apologetically, and then turned to look pointedly at Elizabeth. "Can't you be nice?"

"I _am_ being nice," Lizzy insisted. "Charlie, did I not thank you for extending the reservation to us?"

"You did, indeed," he smiled. "Despite the fact that we actually lost the reservation, but that's OK. Expected, even. Red Robin's a good restaurant, too. I haven't been here in years."

Darcy was staring at him mirthlessly.

"_What?_" Charlie asked, exasperated.

"See?" Lizzy looked at Jane. "Nice."

Jane rolled her eyes and shifted her attention to the criminally sweet red-haired boy across from her. "So, what do you do, Charlie?"

They began to talk about business he had in the district. It turned out that the Bingleys ran Netherfield Inn, a famous colonial Bed and Breakfast two hours from Philadelphia.

"We have three others along the east coast and I had a business meeting this afternoon at our Cheltenham County location," Charlie nodded matter-of-factly. "Will is my lawyer. We've since rescheduled because well, you know. Nobody anticipated getting into an accident."

"But how cute, you befriended your lawyer!" Lizzy leaned forward. "Charlie, doesn't that go against human nature? You're not supposed to become their friend. Also, don't send them holiday cards. It's a no-no, you shouldn't get attached."

Darcy made an irritated noise. "We met in college."

"Roommates?" Jane asked.

"God no," scoffed Charlie. "He's a neat-freak and I practically have A.D.D. We would have strangled one another." He looked at Jane thoughtfully, "What about you guys?"

"They're sisters, Charlie, obviously," Darcy muttered, his voice deep and agitated.

"We met in my mother's womb," Lizzy said breezily. She raised her hand for a high-five and Jane enthusiastically obliged.

Charlie laughed. "Twins, then?"

"Nope. Two years apart," Jane clarified. "But I'm sure we acquainted ourselves at some time or another before birth."

Darcy's eyebrows were raised, as if these two girls were simply beyond comprehending.

"Look Janie, he's catching flies," Lizzy audibly whispered behind her hand.

"I can _hear_ you."

"I meant you to," Elizabeth said coolly.

Will Darcy rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Wait a minute," Lizzy laughed. "_You'll be hearing from my lawyer?_ You're a lawyer who has his own lawyer?"

"I practice corporate law," Will said smoothly. "Yes, I have my own individual lawyer."

"My hairdresser has her own hairdresser," said Jane. She meant this to be encouraging, but Charlie and Elizabeth started laughing. "She does!" Jane insisted, grinning. "I think she has a separate colorist, too."

Charlie was beaming at her again and their eyes met. Lizzy smirked and took a sip of her Coke. If Charlie ended this cozy lunch tête-à-tête without asking for Jane's number, Elizabeth decided that she would personally shake him senseless and _make_ him ask her. He seemed like the first decent, attractive man to stumble into Jane's life since Henry Atwood, sophomore year of undergrad.

Henry Atwood had turned out to be gay. Lizzy had been eavesdropping in the kitchen when they broke up. She recalled his parting words fondly: "It's pretty and all. I just don't really want to touch it."

But Charlie wasn't really tripping Lizzy's Gaydar, or setting off the Douchebag-o-meter. He seemed like a good guy. And he seemed interested in Jane. His friend, on the other hand…

Their entrees were delivered quickly and Elizabeth looked up at Darcy, who lifted up a soggy looking French fry and tossed it to the outer periphery of his plate. She shook her head. _This one I will easily forget_.

* * *

**A/N**: _Warning #1_: No, I'm not completely sure where this is going. But it's distracting and fun, wee. _Warning #2_: Since I'm not 100 on the direction of this (or what's going to be continued) I can't promise any consistent updates. I can't actually promise you anything, just the fact that there will be evenings that I need to stress-write and this may just be my target. _Note #3_: Love you all. Happy Thanksgiving!


	3. Compromise

A/N: Hey kids, it's that time again! Obligatory language warning before I get more complaints from people who are offended! **I curse. A lot. My characters curse. A lot**. If you don't like it, don't read it.

We cool? Awesome.

* * *

It was an overcast, frigid Sunday morning when Elizabeth Bennet decided to be a responsible adult. Or else, as responsible of an adult as she was genetically predisposed to be. She sat cross-legged on top of the Honda Civic's trunk, trying to gauge the reaction of her best friend and roommate, Charlotte Lucas. It wasn't going too well, since the girl's pale face had turned to an even sicklier shade of white.

"I am covering _all_ damages," Elizabeth assured her.

"And where's my bumper?" Charlotte demanded.

"Oh, that. I'm sure it will turn up somewhere."

Charlotte's brown eyes flickered up and she gave Lizzy the death stare. Fortunately, she wasn't a very intimidating girl. She stood at 5'1, had a dark pin-straight bob haircut and lots of freckles. Also, Charlotte had chosen to brave November's weather in a pink robe, plaid boxer shorts, Uggs and a blue beanie. She held a mug of coffee in one hand and her car keys in the other. They were supposed to be having breakfast.

"The _one_ day I let you borrow my car, Lizzy!" Charlotte finally said, exasperated. "And, if I recall correctly, I asked that you let _Jane_ drive."

Elizabeth sat up straight. "What, are you implying that I'm a bad driver?" Charlotte looked pointedly at the massive dent that marred the left back side. Lizzy followed her line of vision and frowned. "OK, fine. But it wasn't _me_, Char. There was this…deer."

"A deer?" Charlotte challenged.

"Yes, a deer. Or a _stag_, if we're going to be using the correct terminology," Lizzy said matter-of-factly. "Jane and I were passing by this charming little wooded area. We were waiting patiently at a red light, listening to something really happy on the radio like The Beach Boys, and in comes this _stag_, galloping towards us at the speed of light, _fire_ glinting in its _mutant Bambi eyes_—"

"Lizzy."

Her shoulders slumped. "Some prick cut me off and claimed he didn't see my left turn signal. It was 50-50 and insurance is covering all but the cracked windshield, which is roughly $450 dollars that will come out of my pocket. Can we go back inside and eat waffles?"

"You couldn't have told me that in the first place?"

Lizzy shrugged.

Charlotte shook her head. "Let's go eat breakfast." Lizzy beamed and hopped off of the trunk. Charlotte gave her a light shove. "Why are you such a fuck-up?"

"Oh, you love it."

She punched in the security combination on the keypad to the building and held the door open for Lizzy. "Is Jane all right?"

"She's more than all right," Elizabeth smirked over her shoulder. "Girlfriend got herself a date."

"What?" laughed Charlotte. "With who?"

"Best friend of the prick who smashed into us," said Lizzy. "He is tall, ginger, dimpled _and_ laughs at her corny jokes. Oh, and rich."

"Motherfucker."

"I know."

"_I_ want to be Jane."

"Don't we all?"

* * *

Will Darcy was crouched low in front of a winding staircase, prodding at a loose wooden floorboard that met the first step. He jabbed at it with the end of his pencil, made a face and wrote something disparaging on his clipboard. Behind him, a woman in a black business suit fretted nervously. She immediately looked up when Charles Bingley came out of the kitchen, eating an apple.

"Hi, Margaret."

"Mr. Bingley."

"Charlie," he corrected with a smile.

"Right," Margaret cleared her throat. "Is he—is this man…"

"Oh, don't let Will bother you, Margaret. He's just looking for reasons for me to not buy this property, despite the fact that I've had this building evaluated twenty-three times and I've already signed the lease," Charlie smiled cheerfully.

Will Darcy shot up. "_What?_ Then what the hell are we doing here?"

"I was hungry," Charlie shrugged and took a bite out of his apple. "And it was on the way."

Darcy opened his mouth to say something entirely inappropriate, took one look at Margaret and closed it again.

In the car, he made no attempts to conceal his annoyance. He jabbed the keys into the ignition and backed out of the driveway so quickly that he nearly hit a trash can.

"Maybe I should drive, in light of your recent accident," Charlie suggested.

"I can't believe you bought the Brooks residence, Charlie, against all legal advising," Will said.

Charlie shrugged.

"_Why?_" Darcy asked.

"It's so _cute_, and it's by that _lake_ thing and the neighbors seem nice. My father said that I needed to get a new office here with all that construction going on at the Netherfield B&B." Charlie explained. "I bought it on an impulse."

"You buy Altoids on an impulse, not a _townhouse_."

"Well, technically, I'm renting it out."

Darcy raised his eyebrows.

"Dude, come on. I'm stuck in this town for the next six months. I didn't _ask_ to be in charge of the Netherfield project," Charlie pointed out. He paused and took a bite out of his apple, and Will waited patiently for him to stop chewing. "I figured I might as well enjoy myself while I'm making the bi-weekly checkups to Netherfield. Rent out a charming little Colonial townhouse, breathe in the ol' country air."

"Instead of choking on the bus and taxi emissions in New York," Darcy said dryly.

"Ex_actly_," Charlie grinned.

"And this has nothing to do with that girl you met two weeks ago," Darcy sounded skeptical.

"Oh come on, Will, don't be such a dick. Jane lives at least an hour away."

"And you would know this because…"

"I uh, saw her three times last week," Charlie mumbled. Darcy rolled his eyes, and Charlie added, "And I'm seeing her again tonight."

"This is fair. _I_ have to pay an ungodly sum of money from that accident and _you_ hook-up with a pretty blonde," Darcy shook his head.

"Life must suck for you," Charlie said through a mouthful of apple. "Hey, if you're lonely, my sister would be happy to take you out to dinner."

Darcy shot him a look.

"_Are you lonesome tonight_," Charlie began to purr Elvis lyrics.

"Oh, fuck off," he laughed.

"Shit," Charlie slumped back into the passenger seat. "Shit, shit, shit. Speaking of Caroline. Today's the 12th, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Caroline said she would visit me today. She's bringing Rhiannon. OK, you may actually _have_ to take them out to dinner. I will _pay_ you to take them out to dinner, Will."

"Does this make you my pimp or something?" Darcy asked.

"You're disgusting. No, but yeah, take them out. I really want to spend the evening with Jane."

"No," he said simply.

"Please?" Charlie pouted. "Please."

"I would rather taser my face than be alone with your sister and her best friend."

"You're _killing_ me," Charlie moaned and buried his face in his hands. "What's the alternative?"

"Ask Jane if she would have them over for dinner, too?" Darcy suggested sarcastically.

"No, no, no. That would be a terrible imposition."

"You think?"

"Might as well ask, though," Charlie got his phone out. "Just to be sure."

Darcy sighed and shook his head. He changed lanes briefly, then took a right onto the next street. "Only _you_ get away with this sort of shit, I swear. And she's going to eat it up too, because you're Mr. Nice Guy."

"If she says yes, you're coming, too."

"What?"

"What other plans did you have this Friday night away from the city?" Charlie asked with a smirk.

"I was just planning to get drunk and fall asleep on my couch watching a movie with violence in it," Darcy muttered. "You know, like the ones where something explodes but the protagonist just keeps walking forward without looking over his shoulder."

"Sometimes I just feel sorry for you."

Darcy stared at him with irritation.

"Come on, be a friend. Jane's _sister_ will probably be there. Eh? Eh?" Charlie elbowed him encouragingly. When Darcy didn't say anything, he laughed, "Aha! Struck a nerve. I _knew_ you found her attractive. She was cute. I'm glad you stopped denying it."

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Nothing special there, Charlie."

He rolled his eyes.

* * *

"—and then he called saying that he might have to cancel tonight because his older sister is coming in from the city with her best friend and I was on a hospitality roll and I invited them _all_ to my place before I realized that my apartment is tiny and yours is bigger and can I please, _please_, borrow your life for an evening?" Jane finished, her blue eyes saucer wide.

Charlotte stared at her friend in the doorway, a toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. She held up one finger and disappeared down the hall into the bathroom to rinse out her mouth. Then she returned and shrugged, "Yeah, that's fine. I won't be here tonight anyway. Jeremy and I are going to a club."

"Avoid open booze," came a disembodied voice.

"Thanks for the advice, Lizzy," Charlotte hollered.

"You're welcome!"

"What's she doing?" asked Jane curiously.

"God knows. Probably making sock puppets for Reading Hour on Monday," said Charlotte. "I helped her for last week's class but she won't let me anymore because I made a Gene Simmons puppet. She thought it would scare the kids."

"Typical."

"I know, right?"

Lizzy hauled a basket of laundry into the living room and balanced it on one hip. "Let Cleaning Friday commence! Oh hey, Jane."

"No, no, no!" Jane whined. "Lizzy, can you please not upturn your apartment this evening? Can we just surface clean?"

"Jane, I have to legitimately clean this time. It's been weeks. We only surface clean when people come over, and I don't know how much more clothes I can stuff into the coat closet. I think there's still a minibar in there from last time," Elizabeth explained. She looked from Charlotte to Jane and asked, "Wait, is someone coming over?"

"Charlie is," said Jane.

"Cool! He won't care if the apartment's messy."

"And…his sister, her best friend and that Darcy guy."

Lizzy's smile disappeared. She set down her laundry basket and crossed her arms thoughtfully. "I am going to smack a bitch."

Charlotte smirked.

"Charlotte, I'm going to the club with you."

"No, you can't!" Jane pleaded. She squeezed her sister's shoulders. "Please, Lizzy, I'm begging you. I really like Charlie, and the only way I can be alone with him for a _second_ is if you hang out with everybody else!"

"Why can't you just reschedule?"

Jane hesitated.

"That didn't even occur to you, did it," said Elizabeth plainly.

"Not really, no. But I already made baked zitti and bruschetta."

"Fine," Lizzy groaned. "_Fine_. I'll be here."

"You realize she only just agreed because you mentioned food, right?" Charlotte grinned.

Jane squeaked and hugged her sister tightly. Lizzy let her arms dangle, displeased. "The things I do for you guys."

"Please, you practically wrecked my car."

"Oh come _on_, Charlotte, let it _go_."


	4. How to Be a Perfect Hostess

To everyone that knew her, Jane Bennet was affectionately known as Mary Poppins. Yes, she was practically perfect in every way—but actually, the similarity was drawn from her unthinkably large bag.

Jane pulled out three Tupperware containers from her purse, and then a bottle of Yellow Tail. Elizabeth made a face and craned her neck to see. "Go on, I just want to see if you have a Keebler elf in there."

Jane glared. Lizzy grinned. She took a sip of her beer before offering it to her sister, who hesitated before accepting it. "Why not," Jane sighed, "my nerves are shot."

"Relax, Janie. They'd be stupid not to like you. Scratch that, they would be _inhuman_ not to like you," Elizabeth assured her.

Jane smiled gratefully. "I love you. Thanks for cleaning up."

"No need to thank me," Lizzy hopped off the counter and opened the fridge. "I figured Charlotte and I would suffocate in our stank of leftover Chinese food and dust bunnies eventually."

"That's another thing I want to talk to you about," Jane said. She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind an ear and turned around.

Lizzy closed the fridge suspiciously. "You ordered Chinese food?"

"No," said Jane. "Lizzy, you know I love you…"

"Uh-huh." She arched an eyebrow.

"Tonight, can you just be…you know…_nice_?" Jane asked. "I know I don't have to ask you to be nice to Charlie. But please be nice to—"

"That asshat he calls his friend," Elizabeth finished.

Jane sighed evenly. "He's not _that_ bad."

"I'm sorry, were you there when he insulted my driving, my appearance and my intelligence?"

"Yes, but—"

Lizzy gave her a withering look.

"OK fine, he's a bit of a douche," Jane admitted, giving Lizzy cause to laugh. "But you of all people know that there's usually some sort of back-story there. Why else would he be friends with somebody as nice as Charlie?"

"Blackmail. Jealousy," Elizabeth suggested. "Also, if Charlie happens to murder somebody, he has a scheming Suit at the scene of the crime to tidy everything up for him." Lizzy's eyes lit up for a moment, "Darcy's like that guy in _Munich_ who gets rid of all the evidence!"

"Are you actually insinuating that the guy I'm seeing is a murderer and his best friend is the _cleaner_?" Jane said dryly.

"Yeah."

Jane rolled her eyes.

Lizzy sighed. "Fine, I'll try to be on my best behavior."

"Thank you."

It turned out that Will Darcy was the least of Lizzy's problems. In fact, it was surprising to find out that Charlie held such poor company. His sister and her best friend made it exceedingly difficult for Elizabeth to hold her promise to Jane. But she still tried. When that door opened, Lizzy fixed on her most winning polite smile to greet the guests. Only two women stood in the hall.

Caroline Bingley was pretty in a willowy, carved cheekbones kind of way. She smiled at Jane, "You must be Jane. I'm Caroline. This is my friend from New York, Rhiannon." The brunette beside her looked up and adjusted the Chanel purse at her hip.

"Like the song?" Lizzy piped up. "Rhiannon? Fleetwood Mac? Stevie Nicks?"

Rhiannon looked at her coolly. "No. I don't know who that is."

_And there's goes my attempt for the night_. Lizzy wondered if they could open the wine now.

"This is my younger sister, Elizabeth." Jane moved aside, "Oh God, where are my manners? Please come in!" Caroline gave her coat to Jane, who hung it up on one of the hooks. She also took her umbrella. "I didn't realize it was raining out."

"_Pouring_," Caroline sighed. She was finger-combing her bright red hair. "The boys are trying to find parking. They should be here soon." She looked around the living room. "Cute," she said, in a way that mildly suggested otherwise. Lizzy raised her eyebrows. Jane didn't pick up on it.

"Oh, would you like to see the rest of the apartment?" she smiled cheerfully.

Rhiannon and Caroline exchanged looks. Caroline smiled back. "Sure, Jane dear, lead the way."

Lizzy took the opportunity to slink off into the kitchen. The plates were stacked up on the kitchen table, silverware in a glinting pile beside it. The table could only seat two or three people. Six was pushing it. Jane had agreed with Lizzy's suggestion to make dinner buffet-like, which now seemed like a less-than-impressive idea in light of their new guests' tastes. Lizzy shrugged and peeled the plastic wrap off of a plate of risotto. _Whatever, they'll get over it_.

The door suddenly slammed and Lizzy looked up. She heard laughter.

"You said we could _share_ the umbrella," came a deep and agitated voice.

"I thought about it," joked Charlie, "but I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. Bromances can only be pushed so far." Lizzy listened. There was a pause, and then the sound of mild scuffle. "_Ow!_" said Charlie. "I think you wrinkled my shirt."

"Good."

Charlie's phone started ringing. He sighed, "Look, go in the kitchen and ask for a towel. I think Jane's in there. I'll be there in a second."

Lizzy decided it was time to leave. After all, if she avoided Will Darcy, she could successfully avoid letting him know what she thought of him. But he moved faster than she anticipated and they nearly collided in the doorway to the kitchen.

"_Jesus!_" Elizabeth jumped back in surprise.

"Sorry," Darcy muttered.

"Yeah well, you should—" Lizzy looked up and closed her mouth. Darcy was staring at her, puzzled. She thought it might have been the rain that made him irritatingly good-looking at that moment, what with the ruffled damp dark hair and those arresting blue eyes. _Aw, shit_.

"I should…what?" Darcy prompted.

"You should…" Lizzy toyed with her ponytail and looked around for some sort of helpful suggestion. "Eat."

"I should _eat_," he echoed.

"Yeah. Food. Because…we have it," Elizabeth tried. "Jane made dinner."

Darcy looked at the table silently. Then he looked back at Elizabeth, "Listen, I need a towel."

Lizzy crossed her arms over her chest.

"Please," Darcy added with a short sigh.

"Linen closet is in the hall, next to the bathroom."

He nodded and turned around.

Elizabeth glared at his back until a thought occurred to her. _I didn't insult him. I didn't insult him!_ She marked a tally in her mental win column. "Maybe I can actually uphold this promise tonight. Check me out."

Within fifteen minutes, she managed to call him a delusional hypocrite.

They were sitting in the living room. Lizzy sat with her back against Jane's armchair, her long legs crossed at the ankle in front of her. A plate of risotto rested in her lap and she held a second beer in one hand. The other was used for pointing at Will Darcy, who had just been insulted for his taste in movies.

"Woody Allen is the king of the moody, neurotic New Yorker movies," Lizzy insisted. "You're _from_ New York. What is that?"

"He's overrated," Darcy insisted. "And I've only lived in New York since college. It's not where I'm _from_."

"Will grew up in Connecticut," Caroline corrected, patting his knee briefly. They were all packed like sardines on the loveseat, Rhiannon, Caroline and Darcy. Rhiannon and Darcy seemed uncomfortable, but Caroline was perfectly happy. She smiled at Darcy, who made a micro expression sort of similar to a smile but not really. Either way, it faded in an instant.

"Our uncle lives in New Haven," Jane said conversationally. "Lizzy and I were there a few summers back. It's really pretty there. Where did you live, Will?"

"Bridgeport," he muttered.

"Is it nice?"

"Yeah." That effectively closed the conversation. Jane smiled and nodded and Elizabeth rolled her eyes. _It's easier to hold a conversation with a coffee pot, I swear_. She looked at her sister, who was trying to be her amiable sweet self. Charlie looked annoyed as well.

"Does anybody want more wine?" Jane asked.

Caroline lifted her glass. Rhiannon handed Jane an empty plate, as well as Caroline's, which had only been half cleared. "Thanks for the meal," Caroline said.

"Did you successfully win your war against carbohydrates?" Lizzy asked.

Caroline snapped her head back and looked at the younger Bennet girl. "Excuse me?"

Elizabeth simply smiled back.

"I'll help you clear dishes," Charlie said, getting to his feet. He collected the plates and smiled genuinely at Jane. "Thank you _so_ much for dinner. It was delicious. I'm going to have to steal that baked zitti recipe."

"Nope, I'm guarding that one with my life," Jane quipped. He laughed and followed her into the kitchen. Lizzy heard them giggling and smiled, peeling the label on her bottle thoughtfully. Jane had a cake baking in the oven and would be preparing coffee and tea. It would give them a nice amount of time to flirt and be generally adorable. Lizzy could take one for the team.

Caroline was staring at the walls with an impassive look on her face. Her stare stopped at the window. "Jane mentioned that you and your roommate redecorated recently."

Elizabeth looked up. "Yep."

Caroline watched her from the corner of her eye. "It's very…farmer's market shabby chic. Those drapes look exactly like my Great Aunt Stella's." She prodded Will with her elbow, "You remember her, Will, the one who lives in the nursing home?"

"Yes." Darcy stared at his cell phone.

"Oh, I'm so glad you noticed those curtains!" Lizzy said happily. "They have such a wonderful story behind them."

"Do they?" asked Caroline with fake sincerity.

"_Yes! _Our last resident was an 86 year-old woman, Doris Clearwater. She was savagely beaten to death over some sort of prosthetic hip fiasco, and it took about _seven_ dry-cleans to get the blood out of those drapes," Lizzy pointed at them. "Luckily, Charlotte and I know a really skilled dry cleaning place, Mr. Kwan's. A little baking soda prep before and after and _poof_, good as new." She sighed, "We thought about replacing them, but we wanted to honor the memory of poor Doris. I think it sends a good message. That fabric can rise against violence. It's metaphoric."

Rhiannon and Caroline were staring at Elizabeth as if they couldn't decide what facial expression was appropriate. They settled for confusion and mild disgust.

Darcy was still staring at his phone, but the corners of his mouth had lifted up. "She's joking," he said after a moment.

"I don't get it," Rhiannon said.

Lizzy looked across the room at Darcy. "Am I, Mr. Darcy? Am I _really_?"

"Did something really happen with those curtains?" Caroline looked at them with a horrified look on her face.

"You've got a twisted sense of humor," Darcy told Lizzy, taking a sip of his beer.

"Yeah, that's true. I did threaten to hurt you," said Elizabeth. "Also, I may have entertained the idea that you clean up murder scenes for a living."

"Darcy is a _very_ successful lawyer," Caroline said pointlessly.

"_What?_ Why would you think that?" Darcy asked. Caroline gaped at him, upset over the fact that she was being ignored.

"I don't know, it's the suit," Lizzy laughed. "It's suspicious, OK? I'm used to the laid back. Those are my people. You're too intense, Darcy. It's a little scary."

"Please, you didn't seem the least bit scared during the accident, just _pissed off_," Darcy snorted. "I don't think anything scares you."

"You may be right," Lizzy shrugged passively.

"Wait, _this_ is the girl?" Caroline asked Darcy, pointing directly at Elizabeth. "Is this the girl who smashed her car into yours?"

"He smashed his car into _mine_," Lizzy corrected.

"Turn signal," Will repeated.

"Oh, blow it up your ass. It was _on_."

"Yeah, right."

"Dude, don't _test_ me. I have a cheese knife."

Rhiannon looked back and forth as they argued, as if watching a ping pong match.

"Do you know how much that cost me?" Darcy had scooted to the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. "The least you could do would be to own up to _some_ sort of responsibility."

"Why?" asked Elizabeth. "I don't feel like beating a dead horse."

Darcy looked at her for a moment and nodded in agreement. "I guess you're right."

"Also, it wasn't my fault," Lizzy said quickly.

"Are you _serious_—?" Darcy asked, exasperated.

There was suddenly an electric hum and everybody grew very quiet. The lights flickered for about an instant. Then everything returned to normal.

"That was odd," Lizzy murmured, getting up. "Is it still raining out?"

A rumble of thunder could be heard outside, and then the electricity powered off and shrouded the room in absolute darkness.

"Fuck."

"Lizzy!" Jane cried from the kitchen.

"Come _here_!"

"But what about the cake!"

"Fuck the cake!"

"I'd rather not!" Charlie called.

The glow of Darcy's iPhone filled the room as he scrolled through an application. "Apparently the roads are flooded."

Lizzy started giggling.

"What's so funny?" he asked her.

"I didn't think there was a duller way to say that sentence."

"I'm not _staying_ here!" insisted Caroline. Lizzy watched her silhouette pace the room. "How are we going to get back?"

"Relax, Carrie, we'll just wait for the storm to pass," Rhiannon assured her.

"Yeah, sit tight. We'll make it fun. Darcy, come with me."

"Yeah, I'm not sure if—"

"Get _up_!"

"Jesus, ouch! OK, I'm up, fine!"

Lizzy and Darcy bumped into Charlie and Jane in the hall on the way to the kitchen. "_Oof!_" said Jane, stumbling back and Charlie steadied her. Darcy illuminated the hall with his cell phone.

"Passing through," Charlie tipped his imaginary hat. "Hey, we'll just wait it out for a bit. I'm not driving in a place I'm not that familiar with in weather like this. Though in retrospect, I probably should have seen this coming, given the rain."

"Don't worry about it," Elizabeth said. "We're just going to get candles and a flashlight. All that good stuff."

In the kitchen, Darcy held his phone above Lizzy as she crouched low in front of the cabinets. She drew out about five large candles and a battery-powered electrical lantern. "Always prepared!" she beamed.

"I'm so proud of you," Darcy said dryly.

"Shut up."

"Can you not hit me again?"

"No."

Darcy accidentally dropped his phone and it clattered on the floor. The kitchen was instantly black. They both squinted against the darkness.

"Shit."

"Nice one," Lizzy deadpanned.

"Where is it?"

"Ow, that's not it."

"Sorry."

"OK, back up for a second," Lizzy cautioned. "I'm about to get up and I'm taking these candles with me."

"I _can't_ back up. _Where_ am I supposed to back up? I'm practically up against the _fridge_. Or whatever this is. Is this the fridge?" Darcy asked.

"Are you hyperventilating? Calm _down_." There was a shuffle of fabric, and then Lizzy said, "Getting up slowly, ye be warned." He waited a moment, before she laughed, "And I'm good! Here, take this candle."

Darcy reached his hand forward and immediately pulled back. "That wasn't the candle, was it?"

"No, you pretty much just copped a feel. Way to be, that's appropriate. Was it good for you?"

"It's not like I did it _intentionally_," Darcy said quickly.

"OK, I'm just going to hand these to you, one by one. Ready?"

"Yeah."

After five solid minutes of trying very hard not to hit, bump into, insult or unintentionally sexually harass the other, Darcy and Elizabeth managed to wander back into the living room. He had even recovered his cell phone. They lit the candles, one by one, on the coffee table. A golden light flooded the room, casting eerie shadows on the wall.

"Ghost stories. _Go_," Charlie deadpanned with a grin.

"God, Charlie, grow up," Caroline sneered.

Charlie mimicked her and Lizzy laughed.

Jane had brought back a bag of marshmallows from the pantry, and wooden skewers they normally used for kebabs. "Why not?" she shrugged when Lizzy looked at her.

"We're adorable," Lizzy grinned. She passed around the bundle of skewers. The bag of marshmallows soon followed.

After a couple of minutes, everybody seemed more relaxed. Charlie sat in front of the coffee table, watching one of the flames char the marshmallow at the end of his skewer. "This kind of reminds you what things are like, you know? Without that constant stream of technology. No TV, no computer. No artificial light or LCD screens."

"I agree," Jane said quietly.

Lizzy nodded her head at Darcy, whose face was tinted blue by the screen of his cell phone. "Yeah, I'm not really sure that's a sentiment felt by us all."

Caroline was lifting her own cell phone in irritation, "Service here _sucks_."

Rhiannon had fallen asleep on the couch. Caroline glared at her, as if disappointed that she had lost a sympathizer to unconsciousness.

"It's so _quiet_ here," Charlie looked out the window, watching the rain slash against the glass. "I love it."

"Charlie's going to rent out a cabin and live in the woods for a year," Will muttered.

"That's pretty Henry David Thoreau of you," Lizzy smiled. "Bring insect repellent."

"Will's just being a dick."

"Thanks."

Caroline sighed audibly and decided to look for a whole different kind of support. She leaned her head against Darcy's shoulder and threaded her arm with his. "What are you doing, Will?"

"Trying to check my email. Not very successfully," Darcy sighed.

"You're _so_ hard-working. You should really take a moment to relax. I hear stress is very bad for you," Caroline insisted.

"You read that article, _too_?" Lizzy gasped.

Charlie laughed.

Caroline's face looked somewhat frightening in candlelight. All the sharp edges that were considered beautiful and sculpted before now made her look sinister. The fact that she was glaring openly at Elizabeth just put the cherry on the sundae. She turned to Will again.

"Have you heard from your sister lately?" asked Caroline.

"Earlier this week, yes," Darcy murmured.

"Next time you talk to her, send her my love. I _miss_ her. Such a sweetheart."

"Caroline, you met Georgie once when we went to a Yankees game," Charlie reminded her.

"We bonded. We text."

"So maybe you should be the one to send her your love," suggested Lizzy, peeling the skin off of a marshmallow. She smiled sunnily at Caroline.

"I have no _service_."

"Pity."

The glaring match continued. Caroline's distaste for Elizabeth was now thinly veiled. It made Lizzy smile.

"You would think Charlotte might be back by now?" Jane said worriedly. She checked the time on her phone.

"Please, Charlotte left this evening with one goal in mind," Lizzy stated. "The girl is getting some."

Jane snapped her phone shut. "Best not to call her, then."

Charlie laughed.

It was after midnight before the rain came down to a drizzle and the roads were a little more manageable, as indicated by the latest traffic report on Darcy's phone. Caroline had never been happier; she buttoned up her coat with alarming speed. Darcy shrugged into his own and pulled his hood up. Lizzy handed him an umbrella from her closet. He thanked her awkwardly.

Charlie was the last to leave the apartment, mostly because he was saying sweet things to Jane and had stopped to kiss her. Lizzy shamelessly eavesdropped from the kitchen. This was when the electricity managed to spark back on. The door slammed and Jane walked back into the kitchen, flushed and grinning.

"Look!" Elizabeth cried. "Your kiss generated enough power to bring the electricity back! We can fuel the world on your _love_!"

"Shut up," Jane laughed, swatting her. She touched her mouth and grinned. "Wow, I like him so much. I'm a little scared of how much I like him, Lizzy."

"Don't be. He's wonderful, just accept it," said Lizzy. She was loading dishes into the dishwasher and had stopped to find a bottle of rinse agent under the sink.

Jane leaned against the counter and watched her sister. "By the way, that was awfully thoughtful of you, lending Darcy your umbrella." She lifted an eyebrow suggestively and smiled.

"Oh, don't psychoanalyze it, Janie, I'm just secretly hoping he gets hit by a bolt of lightning."

"You're terrible!" Jane laughed. "Give him a break."

"No, thanks."

"Will is a nice guy, I think. He's just shy."

"We must be talking about two different people," muttered Lizzy.

Jane sighed. "He helped you get all those candles!"

Lizzy pursed her lips to stop herself from laughing. She wasn't about to tell Jane about Will Darcy accidentally groping her. "Hey, let's go finish the wine," she suggested. "And the cake, let's ice the cake. I need both after tonight."

"I'm sorry, honey," Jane hugged her, laughing.

"I'm not. You're happy. It was worth it."


	5. Steady, As She Goes

"What a douchenozzle."

"Lizzy, that's not even a word."

"Look, I can't help it that Webster is taking an exceptionally long time to respond to my e-mails," said Elizabeth. She was combing through the half-off bin at H&M with Jane. Charlotte was two feet away, looking at a black tiered sweater.

"And what other words have you suggested they include in their newest edition?" Jane asked.

"Not too many. Just snickerdoodle and dipshit," Lizzy nodded, "respectively."

"That's classy," drawled Charlotte. "Hey, do you think I could pull off this top?" She slipped the hanger over her head so that the off-the-shoulder top draped over her chest.

"Only if you were homeless."

"Why are you such a bitch?"

"God made me this way."

Jane beamed at them. "It's so _nice_ shopping with you guys."

Charlotte sighed and replaced the top. She placed her hands on her hips and eyed Lizzy and Jane critically. "So, should I respond to his voicemail or what?"

"Do you like him?" asked Jane.

"Yes."

"So, it's settled! Go for a second date."

"But he's such a douchenozzle!" Lizzy cried. "Yes, I said it again and I will keep saying it. Bill Collins is a douchenozzle. And do you want to know why? Because he gets turned down by two sisters and goes after their best friend, _that's_ why. I don't care if he showed up at your apartment in a limo and red roses—"

"—with champagne," added Jane.

"—that I may have finished off this morning," Lizzy said.

Charlotte narrowed her eyes. "I _knew_ you weren't drinking coffee out of that mug!"

"Deal with it," Elizabeth lifted her hand impatiently. "_The point is_ that Bill Collins is all big grand gestures and no substance. He wants a lady in his life and I think you're settling. Plus, he's a bit of a pervert."

"He's never been fresh with me," Charlotte reminded her. "And yeah, maybe he's not exactly my type. But Bill has been nothing but a perfect gentleman, and I've been missing that in my life. A guy who treats me right."

"I still call pervert."

"_Lizzy_."

"All I'm saying is that my black underwear never went mysteriously missing before he came over," she shrugged.

"Yes well, not all of us can have perfection personified through the likes of Charles Bingley," Charlotte observed, arching an eyebrow. Jane smiled coyly and blushed.

Elizabeth grinned and playfully draped a patchwork scarf over her sister's shoulders. "No, no, we won't go there. Charlie's like _Fight Club_, we don't talk about him."

"Thank you," said Jane gratefully. "But actually, we can ignore that clause in the contract for a second here, because I need your assistance tomorrow night. I have a request of the double date persuasion."

Lizzy's smile vanished and her green eyes narrowed. "Tell me Charlie has a second best friend who wears denim and doesn't have a broomstick shoved up his ass."

"I'm afraid not."

"Then no."

"There will be food involved!"

Lizzy hesitated. "What kind of food?"

"_Any_ kind you want."

"I call bribe," Charlotte chirped.

"_Please_," Jane pouted, taking Lizzy's hand in hers. "I thought Charlie and I would be alone, but then he suggested that Will go. I guess he needs a wingman. And I didn't want an awkward third wheel scenario, so I told him I would bring you." She lowered herself onto one knee theatrically and batted her eyelashes. "Elizabeth Bennet, would you be my wingwoman?"

Elizabeth bit her lip and fanned herself with one hand. "Oh, Jane. I'm not sure. _This is all so sudden_."

Charlotte smirked. "She didn't even buy you a ring!"

"Just say yes," Jane whispered melodramatically. "Just say yes before my heart breaks into itty bitty shards!"

"Oh, what the hell," Lizzy sighed. "Am I allowed to be medicated?"

"As long as you don't operate heavy machinery."

"Then we're good."

The rest of Sunday passed in a blur of lesson plans, pasta and _The Nanny_ reruns on television. Charlotte had perfected her Fran Drescher impression by the end of the weekend and had succeeded in making Lizzy laugh so hard that her side began to hurt. But then Monday arrived, cruel and fresh, and Elizabeth had leave the land of pajama pants and rejoin the world of sensible heels and pencil skirts.

She adored her class. Yes, there was the occasional asshole child ("For the last time, you _cannot_ call a five year-old an asshole!" Jane argued) but Lizzy generally had a way with children. The truth was, she always had. When she was thirteen, her toddler cousin Becca latched herself onto her ankle and proclaimed kiddie love and ever since then, flocks of children seemed to follow. "Maybe it's because I like dinosaurs and smell like cookies," Elizabeth suggested to Jane.

At the moment, the kids had finished a math lesson and were tracing their little palms on colorful construction paper to make paper hand turkeys for Thanksgiving. Lizzy was in the center of the room, making a list on the chalkboard of which family members would attend dinner on that holiday.

"Who else? Who else?" Lizzy scanned the room. "Oh, come on! We've got Mom, Dad, Grandma, Grandpa, sisters and brothers. Who else comes over for Thanksgiving? Does anybody's dog sit at the table?"

Two boys at the front table began to giggle.

"Ben, I _know_ your dog sits at the table," Elizabeth grinned at the blond-haired boy.

"No, he doesn't!" Ben laughed. "That's so silly."

"Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet!" a girl raised her hand wildly.

"Yes, Olivia?"

"My aunt Shirley comes over!" Olivia Winsky informed Elizabeth proudly. "She lives in California."

"Oh, wow! That's a long flight." Lizzy turned to write on the chalkboard. "OK, so we have an aunt. Does anybody's uncle come over?"

"Yes!"

"Yeah!"

"I hate Uncle Tony."

Elizabeth bit her lip and tried not to laugh. The comment had come from Nick Marcello, a pale-faced, sullen but polite boy with wild dark curls. He slumped in his chair and picked at a star sticker on the table surface. She had somewhat of a soft spot for him. Sometimes during recess, she would let him stay inside with her and help clean the desks and feed the pet goldfish by the cubbies.

"Cousins!" a girl suddenly piped up.

"_Excellent_, Gina, I was _just_ thinking of cousins, you read my mind," Lizzy grinned. She made a whirring sound and pointed to her head and back to Gina's. "We have mind-reading abilities. Maybe we even have superpowers."

Gina smiled and turned pink.

"_I _can fly," Joshua Beck said smugly.

"Beck, you can't. We put that theory to bed and if you try it a second time, I will call your mother. Again."

He squared his shoulders defiantly.

An hour later, Lizzy stood in an empty classroom. She had just finished flipping all the chairs and perching them back on the tables. Nick Marcello lingered at the doorway.

"I forgot my hat in my cubby," he mumbled.

"I'll go get it for you," Lizzy smiled. She found his beanie on the top shelf and handed it back to him.

"Thanks," he said quickly, before scurrying away.

She watched him start to sprint down the hall, squashing the blue beanie over his mop of curls. "Hey!" Lizzy called after him. "Nick, no running. You'll fall and it's just not going to be pretty. Trust me on this. There might be blood and teeth. Oh, don't look at me like that. _Baby_ teeth, obviously, nothing permanent. The point is, just don't. Also, your shoes are untied."

"Sorry!" Nick called.

"No problem," Lizzy murmured under her breath. She turned around to get her bag from her desk and lock up.

"Cute pep talk."

She spun around. Will Darcy of all people was standing in her doorway. Well, that's what he _had_ been doing. Now he was looking at a bulletin board critically, as if it blared today's stock market closing prices as opposed to finger-paint portraits of clouds. Well, they were either clouds or people. Such were the artistic talents of children.

"Um, _hi_. Any particular reason you're standing in my classroom?" Elizabeth asked irritably.

Darcy raised his eyebrows. He was wearing a black button-down shirt and slacks. It was four o'clock. Maybe he had lost the blazer and tie sometime during the commute. "Didn't Jane tell you?" he asked. The question was so mild but presumptuous that Lizzy had to clench her jaw to stop herself from firing something insulting (and probably irrelevant) back. Wordlessly, she pulled out her phone from the front pocket of her purse and flipped it open.

Jane had sent her a text message three hours earlier: _Oh btw, Darcy is picking you up. Charlie and I will meet you at the restaurant._

"Of course," Lizzy took in a deep breath, held it and let it out.

They were outside, walking to the car when Darcy found it appropriate to speak to her for a second time. Lizzy wondered what had possibly possessed him.

"Listen, it's clear to me that you don't like me very much."

She laughed—only once and _very_ loudly—before sobering up. "I don't follow you, Darcy."

"All I'm saying is that you love Jane and I love Charlie, and if they need buffers for a date, we just have to suck it up and _deal_." Darcy completed his declaration with corresponding, emphatic hand gestures. "For their happiness." Lizzy raised an eyebrow.

"Well, then. I'm sorry I'm so unlikable and difficult to be around," Elizabeth said cheerfully. Darcy stopped walking, and Lizzy's face nearly collided with his shoulder. "_Oof__!_ Give a girl some warning!"

"Maybe you shouldn't walk so close to me, then!"

"I'm sorry, I was just admiring your swagger."

Darcy paused, opened his mouth and closed it. "You're joking again—"

"I'm joking again," Elizabeth nodded in confirmation. She giggled and Darcy seemed to relax. "I'm sorry, it's just—you're _so_ uptight, Will Darcy. It will forever entertain me."

"Thank you," he said stiffly. "And just for the record, I don't _not_ like you."

"Oh," Elizabeth gasped audibly. "_Oh!_ Was that a compliment?"

"_No_," Darcy bit out. He continued walking in long-legged strides and Lizzy practically skipped to keep up with him, relishing in the opportunity to be the annoying bee buzzing in his ear.

"But it was a double-negative, _Darce_, I think that's as close as I'm going to get. Does this mean you like me?"

"Actually, I'm pretty indifferent about you, Elizabeth," said Will curtly. They were at his car now. Three weeks and a fistful of money had granted a pretty solid repair job. Lizzy checked her reflection out in the shiny surface of the car door and tucked back a fly-away behind her ear.

Darcy met her eye across the hood of the car.

"Well, I'll be," Lizzy smoothed her skirt and shook her head, "you sure know how to make a girl feel special."

He said nothing and opened the door.

Will hated himself a little for it, but he couldn't stop staring at Elizabeth Bennet during dinner. Much like before, actually, but this time he did it with more curiosity than pure distaste. Every now and then, he would catch himself glancing at her and would quickly fix his stare on something safe, like the breadbasket or the tablecloth design. It did not help much. Charlie and Jane were babbling about a Darren Aronofsky film he had already seen and Lizzy was listening politely and commenting every so often.

She looked different. Her hair was still pulled back, but dark tendrils had escaped her ponytail and were framing her face loosely. She was wearing makeup. Nothing much, probably a little lipstick and mascara. And she was no longer dwarfed in a massive cardigan and jeans. Lizzy wore a snug V-neck sweater and a gray pencil skirt. It made Darcy notice some things he would have cared not to.

_Yeah fine, she's a pretty girl. There are many just like her. Probably less aggravating and foul-mouthed, too._

"What do you think, Will?"

Darcy blanched and looked up from his menu. Charlie was looking at him expectantly, but his smile faltered at his best friend's expression. "You still with us?"

"Not really," he muttered.

Jane gave a lopsided smile. "Oh, leave him alone. We were just talking about suits and you seemed to have the most detailed knowledge on the subject, Will, given how often you wear them. Not that it's unexpected, I mean you do work at a firm."

"Darcy sleeps in them," Charlie chuckled, taking a sip from his beer bottle.

"Nonsense, Charlie, they would only wrinkle."

"Hear, hear," Lizzy thundered.

Darcy gave a tight-lipped smile, shook his head and glanced back down into his menu.

After dinner, Charlie and Jane had selected some hokey Reese Witherspoon romcom at a theatre fifteen minutes away, but Elizabeth found she couldn't really complain. Every girl had a craving for a lighthearted chick flick once in awhile. Or rather, once every week to be more accurate. But to Lizzy's surprise, Will Darcy didn't say anything insulting about the choice. He simply braved it quietly. He had been silent since dinner ended.

Previews were rolling when Lizzy decided to give Charlie and Jane some quality time. "I'm getting popcorn. Anybody else want some concession stand goodness, while I'm up?"

"Junior mints, please and thank you. And a Coke."

"You got it. Darcy, care to help?" Elizabeth asked.

"Sure."

He followed her down the stairs and out of the theatre.

"Why do you always ask me for help?" Darcy asked her, once they were in line.

Lizzy turned on her heels and faced him. She smiled cheerfully, "I'm not sure what you mean."

"The candles, for one, during the power outage," he reminded her.

"Oh, you mean when you copped a feelski?" Elizabeth rather enjoyed watching Will Darcy's face flush. He reminded her of an awkward little boy and for a moment, she lightened up on him. "It's OK, I didn't tell anybody that you unintentionally tried to go to second base with me."

Darcy rolled his eyes. "Oh, _thanks_. I appreciate it."

Lizzy chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully. "I don't know. The first time I needed somebody to _illuminate_ the hall for me," she gave a comical flourish of her hand and shrugged. "And this time I wanted to give Jane and Charlie some privacy. Because let's face it, they're a little too polite to suck face in our presence."

"I doubt that's what they're doing. They've only been dating for—"

Elizabeth arched an eyebrow challengingly.

Darcy frowned. "You think they're getting serious," he said in a flat tone.

"Oh, I believe so."

He was quiet for a stretch of time.

They moved up in line until they stood before the cashier; Darcy insisted he would pay. After some half-hearted arguing, Lizzy let him. She leaned against the counter and looked at her shoes before glancing up at Darcy. He stood with impeccable posture, waiting for the theatre attendant to fill up a carton of popcorn. She knew he was lost in thought, probably mulling over Charlie's relationship. Maybe he feared losing a friend; she knew the feeling quite well.

Elizabeth's eyes traced over his profile: the dark disheveled hair, the furrowed brow, the straight nose and strong, clenched jaw. He was so tense all the time. _I wonder what he's like after a few shots of tequila._

"Can you hold this?" Darcy asked, interrupting her reverie. He handed her a pack of Twizzlers and some loose change.

"Yup," Lizzy chirped. "Can do."

They walked back down the corridor to theatre #14, and Lizzy accidentally dropped the change he handed her. "Aw, shit."

"I'll get it."

"No, I got it."

Elizabeth lowered herself delicately, all the while tugging her skirt down. Darcy pressed his lips together; she knew in an instant he was trying not to laugh.

"Shut up. Have you ever tried to bend over in a skirt? I'm trying to be _decent_ so you don't go run off and tell Charlie of my whorish ways. And knowing how much you approve of me, you'd probably tell him that I jumped on top of you, too. _Oh Charlie, Elizabeth and her sister are so frisky and indecent!_"

"OK, queen of assumptions. I wouldn't think that about you."

"Well, thanks. But this thing does ride up, so…_yeah_." Lizzy collected the quarters and stood back up. Darcy outstretched his hand she dropped them into his palm.

"Thank you," Darcy smirked.

"You're welcome."

"By the way," he held the door open for her, "it's weird, you know. You being a kindergarten teacher. You were so good with that kid. The one who raced out of your classroom."

"_Good with that kid?_ Oh, as opposed to eating his flesh, you mean."

"You know what I mean," Darcy rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"Thanks, I guess," Lizzy said. A Twizzler was sticking out of her mouth now and she removed it to talk. "Miss Bennet is my alter-ego. My Peter Parker, if you will."

"And now you're Spiderman?"

"Yep. Judge me."

"You don't have to tell me twice," Darcy muttered, walking back inside the theatre. She had to catch the door after him and held it open with her elbow, struggling.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes and shot daggers at his back. "Douchenozzle."


	6. Whatever Happened to Independence?

Jane and Charlie grew inevitably closer as a month of dating turned into two. After the movie theatre, The Golden Couple only needed Darcy and Elizabeth one last time before they removed the metaphorical training wheels and gave their relationship a proper chance. Lizzy couldn't say she missed playing third (and occasionally fourth) wheel with Will Darcy. During the last date, he had barely spoken three syllables to her. And then they simply stopped seeing one another. Two months, three national holidays, and one blizzard had passed without Elizabeth seeing his face. She didn't miss it, handsome though it was—when he wasn't looking perpetually constipated.

Winter made Lizzy a bit of a loner by habit, and that January marked the first time in years that her two best friends had coupled off and left her single. Charlotte, to her annoyance but eventual acceptance, had only grown closer to Bill Collins in spite of his perverse ways. He was _always_ hanging around the apartment now, usually with his shiny shoes propped up on the coffee table they ate at.

Elizabeth wondered if she should be more accepting of him. Yes, Bill was short and scrawny and had an odd flesh-colored goatee going on near his chin that skeeved her out. His stare was unsettling and hinted at X-ray vision; he also still openly flirted with other women. But if nothing, he was polite, sweet and doting to Charlotte. Sometimes Lizzy felt bad for judging him so harshly. But these feelings usually lasted for short increments of time before they passed. Much like indigestion.

She also hated cleaning up after him. Collins had a nasty habit of leaving socks and boxer shorts all over the apartment, which triggered Lizzy's sensitive gag reflex and implored her to wipe down furniture with Pledge and a rag for at least twenty minutes at a time.

"For once, I wish your boyfriend would pick up after himself," Elizabeth told Charlotte one weekend. "I'm not the fucking maid around here, you know."

Charlotte smiled apologetically over a cup of coffee and looked back down at her cell phone.

"Also, can you just have sex in your bedroom? Is that so hard? I have _books_ on this table. Sacred, _sacred_ books, Charlotte. And now I have to burn it all. And this figurine from my great uncle Joseph. Have to burn that, too. Because you guys got frisky here. Now I have to burn everything. I have to burn _books_! Are you happy with yourself?"

She was still texting. Charlotte looked up a minute later. "What? I'm sorry. I'm texting Bill back about Saturday plans. What were you saying?"

"Don't worry about it," Lizzy mumbled.

Jane, she wasn't as irritated with. How could she be? Her sister's happiness was vital to her. But she rarely saw her now. When she wasn't at the clinic, Jane was with Charlie. He was at her place so often that he was practically living there. She really liked Charlie, too. He was goofy and adorable and absolutely _crazy_ about her sister. They were the tolerable Ken and Barbie. She just missed Jane.

And then her sister called her one Friday night, the third week in January. "_Mom and Dad are coming over for dinner tomorrow night. They want to meet Charlie and I'm having a panic attack and I need you there to hold my hair back and steer me someplace safe so I don't vomit in the lasagna._"

Lizzy set down the spoon she was holding and pushed away her dinner plate. So much for answering the phone mid-bite.

"_I hope you weren't eating._"

"I wasn't," she lied, smiling. "Just making lesson plans. I'll be there, sweetie. Anything you need me to bring?"

"_Your angelic self, obviously! And red wine._"

"Can do on both accounts."

The next night, Lizzy drove the twenty minutes to Meryton Borough, let herself into Jane's apartment and was welcomed by the sight of Charlie Bingley cooking alongside his girlfriend. They wore matching plaid aprons, albeit in different colors. His cheeks were flushed from the steam of the boiling pot he was leaning over, red hair sticking up in impossible directions. Jane squeaked when she saw Lizzy and hugged her tightly.

"I'm going to throw up," she told Elizabeth a second later.

Lizzy nodded understandingly and brushed Jane's blonde hair over her ear. "Have you warned Charlie about the family?"

"She has," interrupted Charlie. "And I've reminded her that my sister and I lived through an ignorant father, two stepmothers and a Swedish nanny we grew very fond of and only after five years discovered was actually a man. Dysfunction runs in multiple families."

"See, that's good!" Lizzy beamed. "Yes, Mom is a little off her rocker and Dad doesn't exactly make it better. It's going to be OK. And you know why? Because they didn't take Lydia or Mary with them."

"You're right. You're right!" Jane visibly relaxed.

"She's right!" Charlie joined in. He had taken off his apron and had walked around the island to knead Jane's shoulders gently. She sat at one of the bar stools now, looking frazzled.

Lizzy held up a bottle of Pinot noir. "I'm going to go pop this in the fridge."

"OK."

She caught wind of their conversation from where she stood, and glanced over her shoulder to watch them. Charlie was kneeling next to Jane, smiling up at her. "_Relax_. I'm going to love them no matter what. You know why? Because they're _yours_. The question is whether or not they'll like me," he murmured.

Jane cupped his chin. "Of course they will, Charlie. You're wonderful."

Charlie beamed and got to his feet. "So are you." He cradled her cheek and kissed her.

Lizzy smiled softly, turned around and placed the bottle in the fridge.

Their parents got there shortly after. It only took thirty seconds for their mother to start fussing. And Tess Bennet was a natural at it, too. She pinched her oldest daughter's cheeks and tutted, "Baby girl, you're so _skinny_. Aren't you eating anything? I know you have long hours at the clinic, but you need nourishment!"

"She's a physical therapist, Mom, I'm sure Jane understands how the human body works," Elizabeth smiled. Her father, John, was slicing carrots on a cutting board and had paused to smirk at her.

"Janie's a strong one. Remember when she used to beat me at arm wrestling?" John sighed wistfully.

"You _let_ me win!" Jane exclaimed.

"Oh god, she knows," moaned their father, pounding both fists on the counter.

"It only took me twenty-some years to catch on, no worries," laughed Jane.

Charlie was introduced afterward. He had stepped outside to take a business call and came back inside, shaking snow off of his boots and shivering from the cold. He beamed at the Bennets. "Hello! I'm sorry, I had to take a call from the Netherfield office. I'm Char—_oh_!"

Tess was already hugging him. "It's so good to meet you! Oh Jane, you never mentioned how _handsome_ he is. And so hard-working, too, still taking calls on a Saturday night?"

"Guilty," Charlie smiled. His cheeks were pink now.

Dinner progressed very much like some sort of demented quiz show. Their mother, much to Jane's embarrassment, had chosen to sit next to Charlie and spent the entirety of the meal grilling her daughter's boyfriend with her chin perched in her hands. She rolled out the compliments and it bordered on kissing ass—which everybody, including Charlie, seemed to realize. She couldn't contain herself; Tess Bennet was a proud mama bear. Her oldest had bagged quite the eligible (rich) bachelor.

"What a lucrative business man you are, Charlie!" Tess gushed.

"Nah, I'm pretty awful and absent-minded. I just employ people who keep me in check."

"Like Will," Jane noted with a smile.

"Yes, Will. Begrudgingly," Charlie laughed.

Tess soon turned her attention to Elizabeth, who had been eating in silence, save for the occasional moment she said something to throw her mother off the route of embarrassing Jane. When this happened, John would glance up knowingly and Jane would flash her sister a grateful smile. But now she became a target. "Elizabeth, I spoke to Phoebe Lucas the other day. They live in Santa Monica now."

"Do they?" Elizabeth asked calmly, taking a long sip of her wine.

"They do! They have a very successful accounting firm down there. Phoebe tells me that Charlotte is in a _very_ serious relationship now. Her boyfriend's rich and successful."

"He's also kind of a turd."

"_Because_ he's rich and successful?" John asked, amused.

"No. Maybe. It might be a contributing factor," said Lizzy.

"_Charlie_ here seems very level-headed and kind," Tess pointed out. Charlie looked up and opened his mouth, feeling awkward.

"Charlie's awesome. Bill Collins is kind of a skeeveball."

"Crap," John sat back in his chair gloomily. "I didn't take my notebook with me to note your newly expanded vocabulary."

"It just keeps getting bigger," Lizzy grinned.

"That's what she said."

Jane winced, "Dad, can we _not_?"

"Sorry."

"I think you're just jealous, Lizzy," Tess said calmly, twirling her fork into a mound of pasta. "Your best friend's dating someone and your sister's in a_very_ serious relationship."

Jane and Charlie both blushed and refused to look at each other. Lizzy felt sorry for them. It was clear that they hadn't exactly defined their relationship yet and didn't need a stamp from Theresa Bennet.

Lizzy sighed and prepared herself for a conversation she had heard dozens of times.

"It's tough being single, but it would be so much _easier_ if you stopped giving guys so much attitude! You scare them off," Tess shook her head.

John gave her the thumbs up and she smiled before turning to her mother. "Mom, I'm fine."

"You're not. You like being alone too much and you throw yourself into your job."

"Well, I love my job."

"You haven't had a serious relationship since Steven," said Tess. "It's been three years."

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Mary Ventresca has a son about your age—"

"Stop right there," Elizabeth pointed her fork at her mother. John snorted.

"Charlie," Tess patted his hand briefly, "surely you have a friend you can introduce to Lizzy? If she can keep her mouth shut long enough, people may realize that she's pretty!"

Lizzy buried her face in her hands and groaned. John rubbed her back comfortingly. "I know, I know. There's no stopping her."

Charlie pursed his lips and bit back a laugh. "Um," he chuckled, "with all due respect, Lizzy doesn't seem like she wants or needs to be set up."

"Thank you!"

"But hey, I'm sure Will would be open to a blind date," he teased.

"Blind date as in…I would hit him and his vision would be temporarily disabled?" Lizzy arched an eyebrow.

"Who's Will?" Tess asked.

Jane said, "Charlie's best friend. We all met…at a concert."

"That was an awfully suspicious pause," John said dryly.

Jane stuffed her mouth with pasta and Charlie covered up additional laughter with a napkin. His shoulders shook silently. Lizzy pursed her lips. The less they knew about an accident, the better.

"Is he successful?" Tess asked. She sat up, attentive and energetic.

"Uh," Charlie's brow creased, "I mean, I don't think that's very important—"

"Of course not."

"—but Will's pretty well off. More importantly, he's got a good heart." Elizabeth looked at him skeptically and Charlie laughed, "I promise he does! I know, he's not the first to show it."

"Is he tall, because Lizzy's quite tall and would need somebody with a complimentary height," Tess said matter-of-factly.

"Is 5'6 really that tall?" asked Jane.

Lizzy turned to her father and pointed at the space between her eyes, "If you shoot me right here, can you make sure you have a pistol with a high caliber? Because I don't want to suffer when you kill me, I just want a good, clean _finito_ shot, right between the eyes."

"I'm having more fun watching you die a little inside, very slowly," John said, finishing his glass of wine.

"I hate you."

"Love you too, honey."

"Darcy's at least a head taller than Lizzy," Charlie nodded and looked at Elizabeth pointedly. "It's a pretty cute height difference."

Lizzy narrowed her eyes at him.

Since the first group date at the movie theatre, Charlie had made a habit out of teasing them. Perhaps he wanted to set them up so they were a proper group of four, sitcom style. He went out of his way to embarrass them both, which Lizzy found funny ordinarily—because really, she and Darcy, despite any initial superficial interest, were simply not compatible. But with her mother present during the jokes, it just made everything awkward.

"There were sparks, Lizzy!" Charlie laughed.

"Yeah, OK. Maybe from the _tires_."

"Are you sure you met at a concert?" John muttered skeptically.

Charlie grinned.

Tess asked, "Wait, I'm confused. Were they already set up?"

"We hung out as a group. They don't get along very well, Mrs. Bennet," Charlie explained. "In fact, I've come to terms with the fact that they would sooner get into a fistfight. I just like teasing them to see how irritated they get. Strong personalities and all."

"It's difficult being the mellow one," John smiled knowingly.

"Really? You manage just fine," Lizzy said.

"It's an art."

Tess sat simpering for awhile. "I'm giving Mary Ventresca's son your number."

"Fuck no!"

After they left, Lizzy and Jane were relieved. The three of them stood in the kitchen in absolute silence. Charlie and Jane said nothing because they didn't know what to say. Lizzy was quiet simply because she was busy finishing her glass of wine.

Charlie finally spoke up, "I like them."

"I'm _so_ sorry," Jane immediately said. "Mom's just like that. With all boyfriends, unfortunately. Four daughters have fine-tuned her grilling skills."

"I understand. It's fine."

"If you want, I will never invite them here again," Jane teased, smiling.

Charlie laughed, "That's silly. You should invite them all to the party."

"Party?" Lizzy asked.

"The Netherfield location is opening on the first weekend of February. We're having a massive party that Saturday. I'm talking black-tie," Charlie explained. "Well, not really. But it's going to be pretty big and fancy. It would be nice to have your family there."

Jane chewed on her lip, considering this for awhile. "I'm not sure, Charlie."

"Your parents are _fine_, Jane, and I'm sure the rest of your sisters will be, too."

Jane and Lizzy exchanged glances and then turned to start cleaning up.

Charlie touched Lizzy on the shoulder. "You OK?"

"Yup," she handed Charlie two empty glasses and smiled.

She wasn't, really. Despite Charlie's sweet temper, Lizzy had a feeling he was secretly put off by their mother's frankness. He would never admit it.

She was also annoyed by the dinner in general.

They had mentioned Will Darcy, whom she would sooner forget that she ever met. And then her mother had brought up Steven Kennedy; the only man she had ever considered marrying before their two-year relationship had gone up in smoke. Lizzy shut her eyes briefly and disappeared to collect the dishes off of the table. Keeping busy—it was how she had gotten over Steve to begin with. It was how she got through everything, come to think of it.

* * *

The end of January was an interesting one for two significant reasons:

#1. That massive rock on Charlotte's ring finger  
#2. Greg

The engagement had the equivalent of socking Lizzy in the stomach; she was very surprised. She bustled into the apartment on a Thursday evening after an entire day of parent-to-teacher conferences at the elementary school. She was cold but otherwise joyful, having just bought much needed groceries.

"I come bearing gifts!" Lizzy grinned, emptying out the brown bags onto the kitchen counter. "Char, we are going to be cooking, cooking, cooking! I may have spent my entire Christmas bonus just now. On food. Totally worth it. Also, Ghiradelli squares. All together now: _yum_."

Charlotte sat at the kitchen counter, smiling up at her best friend.

"What's happened?" Lizzy asked.

"Bill proposed!"

"He _what_?"

"Proposed _marriage_ to me, Lizzy."

"Yeah, I got that part," Elizabeth laughed, running a hand through her hair. "Uh, wow. When?"

"This morning."

"What are you going to say to him?"

"I'm going to accept, obviously," Charlotte said. She opened up the bag of Ghiradelli squares and unfolded a chocolate before popping it into her mouth. "Wow, these really are good. Thank you."

Lizzy stood staring at her best friend with a gaping open mouth she forgot to close. So many things were at the tip of her tongue. _Why? What the fuck? He's a troll! So what, you're a golddigger, now? You've been dating for four months! You did it on the coffee table! He's going to cheat on you! You're an idiot! More underwear and socks?  
_

But Lizzy composed herself and asked Charlotte if she could see her ring; Charlotte enthusiastically obliged. It was a giant oval diamond in a silver Tiffany band. "That's gorgeous," Lizzy smiled. "Congratulations, Charlotte, I'm so happy for you."

"We're getting married in a month."

Lizzy balked at her. "If I were drinking something right now, I would do a spit-take. A _month_?"

Charlotte shrugged and pulled her hair back into a short ponytail. "His godmother is only available next month."

"Is she an ordained minister on a tight schedule?"

"No, but…she's pretty important to him and she's flying there from London."

And then Charlotte explained to Lizzy that they weren't even going to get married in Pennsylvania. They would marry at the Collins's summer home in California, near their vineyard.

"Well, _la-di-da_," Lizzy sighed. "Charlotte, do you even _love_ him?"

"Yes."

"You answered that pretty fast."

Charlotte shrugged, "Then I mean it. Look, I know you don't like him. But you're my best friend and I need you to be supportive."

"What if the whole marriage explodes?" Lizzy argued.

Charlotte shrugged again. "We're getting a pre-nup."

"For fuck's sake…"

"Lizzy, we're not having the _sanctity of marriage _talk again," Charlotte rolled her eyes. "Just because you never made it down the aisle—"

"Charlotte, stop it. I hate when people get married on a whim, OK? You're making a joke out of it. People should marry when they truly, deeply love each other, all right? After they've found a best friend, a partner in the person they're marrying. It's not a fucking joke," Lizzy pointed out, her hands on her hips. She slumped her shoulders a second later, "Come to think of it, this is probably why I'm going to end up alone with a million cats. Or dogs, because I'm definitely not a cat person."

Charlotte had crossed her arms over her chest. "That's nice and sweet and all, Lizzy, but it isn't practical. I'm 29—I wanted to be married by 30. Don't roll your eyes at me. Marriage is about much more than love, it's about _security_. It's about a partnership, yes, in terms of supporting the other. And Bill and I have a solid understanding between us."

"What, you mooch off of his stock market ventures and fund your latest shopping spree?" Lizzy snapped. "Buy what you can't buy on a receptionist's salary?"

Charlotte gasped, livid. "_Wow_."

"What do you expect me to think, Charlotte?" Lizzy waved her hand, exasperated. "You sound like a golddigger. A _starving artist _who scored a guy with money."

"I'm not having this conversation," she said flippantly, before sidestepping Lizzy and walking down the hall.

"Because you know I'm right!" Lizzy called after her. A bedroom door slammed in response. She sighed and shook her head. "Damn it."

Greg seemed to happen directly after their spat; she would be grateful for the distraction.


	7. There's a Story There

Lizzy liked to submerge herself in other people's lives when she didn't particularly want to wander around in her own. She let her fingers skim over the smooth, uncrackled spines of books, occasionally pulling out one to thumb through. She would then put it back and quickly check her phone. Charlotte had yet to answer her three texts. She contemplated calling her, then slid the phone back into her coat pocket.

_I may have been too harsh_. Charlotte was her best friend, after all. But she was moving quickly and there was simply no _time_ (or desire) for Lizzy to sugarcoat her opinion. _There has to be a way I can apologize and still keep my argument intact_, she reasoned with herself. The engagement was a massive mistake. It was impulsive and stupid and the very definition of settling. Charlotte had to realize this. She was sensible!

Elizabeth sighed and took a travel-log off the shelf. She leafed through the pages, letting one woman's account of rustic Tuscany fill her mind instead of her current dilemma. This was successful for awhile, until an employee started to noisily restock a rack of Vera Bradley merchandise and she lost her temper.

"_Dude!_"

The boy shelving patterned diaries and pencil cases flinched and apologized, long enough for Lizzy to feel bad. This might have also happened because he was cute.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm just having a testy evening. Ignore me," she sighed, raking a hand through her hair. He didn't say anything and pressed his lips together.

"Want to talk about it?"

She couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Lizzy arched an eyebrow at him. His nameplate read Greg, he was a little taller than she was and had warm brown eyes and sandy hair. Then he smiled reassuringly, and she realized he had dimples. And scruff. It was not good.

"I'm not sure if you want to hear it, Bookseller Shrink."

"It's Greg. And look, I've been working a twelve hour shift. Anything you say will be interesting, I promise you."

At the exact same moment, around seven aisles down and to the right of the store, Will Darcy was trying to comply to his little sister's ridiculous demands. It was a cold Thursday night and he had stopped at a local Borders on his commute back to town. Georgie had called for an emergency textbook for the new semester.

Darcy was crouched low, skimming titles with his cell phone cradled against one shoulder. "I found a fourth edition. They don't _have_ a sixth edition," he sighed. "Georgie, if you just shipped through Amazon a week ago, we would _not_ be having this problem. Why is everything last minute with you? No. _No_, I'm not lecturing you." Darcy passed a hand over his eyes and got to his feet, "I know, I know, I know. …_I know_. I'll let you know. Love you, too. Bye."

He wedged a history textbook on the French Revolution back into place and decided he should get going. Maybe he could stop by the café for two shots of espresso, judging by the paperwork and briefs he had to sort through tonight. For a moment, Will wondered if there was any chance this night would be different. Maybe he wouldn't fall under his sheets at two-thirty in the morning, past the hours of acceptable late-night television. Maybe he could down three Red Bulls and finish working by eleven o'clock.

Darcy zipped his coat and put his beanie on, which caused tufts of hair to hang in his eyes. "Time for a haircut," he muttered. Then he fished out his keys from his pocket and walked across the store to get to the café.

He didn't get very far, and it was all Elizabeth Bennet's fault.

Will didn't think it was her at first. He just saw some girl in a gray peacoat, talking with one of the Borders salesmen by the Fiction section. But then she laughed and he did a double-take.

Elizabeth Bennet had chosen tonight, after months of conspicuous absence, to look prettier than usual.

Or maybe it was just the lighting.

Or maybe he just hadn't seen her in awhile.

Or maybe she really _did_ just have big, bright and beautiful green eyes. And the way her hair fell across her forehead was nice, too. And then she tucked a strand over one ear and Darcy decided that he was an idiot, but for conflicting reasons. Was he an idiot because he had failed to realize that Elizabeth Bennet was attractive even in jeans, with her hair let down all riotous and curly? Or was he an idiot because he found Elizabeth Bennet pretty to begin with when he had _distinctly_ decided that she was nothing special?

He only knew that he was an idiot who had to go before she saw him. _Right then, I'll just slip by over here—_

Elizabeth's eyes suddenly locked on him from across the aisle and she opened her mouth, surprised.

_Fuck. Well done_.

"Will?"

"…Hey."

It happened at a very inconvenient time for Lizzy, too. Because Greg was actually pretty awesome and sweet, as far as third-party bystanders went. He had advised her to apologize to Charlotte but to also explain what caused the outburst as well. "It also helps to make a list. You laugh, but it's the best way to gather your thoughts." Greg paused, "Then again, you _are_ taking friendship advice from a stranger, so proceed with caution."

Lizzy smiled, "Why, are you a terrible friend?"

"I couldn't say," Greg laughed.

She was just about to respond when she spotted Darcy. _Will_ Darcy, whom she hadn't seen in months. She must have spent several seconds staring in confusion over Greg's shoulder, because it prompted him to turn around and see who she was looking at.

Lizzy was not prepared for the change in both men.

Greg looked incredibly uncomfortable. Darcy looked livid.

Nobody said anything for at least half a minute, until Lizzy said an awkward "How are you?" to Will.

"Fine."

"Good to see you again," said Greg, unsmiling. Lizzy glanced up at him in surprise.

Darcy's jaw clenched. He met Lizzy's eye and for some strange inconceivable moment, she got the feeling that she had done something very wrong that she didn't quite understand. She started to blush. Then he turned away without a word and walked off.

It wasn't until he was gone that Greg turned to her incredulously. "Lizzy, we have a mutual acquaintance."

"But we just met! I don't even know your favorite color. Or your last name."

"Wickham. Green."

"I've never had a crayon color called Wickham."

Greg smirked and shook his head. "Thanks for keeping me company on my shift. Do you think…can I have your number? Maybe for coffee or something?"

"No!" Lizzy laughed, gesturing wildly to the empty space around her. "No, not until you tell me how you know that very serious gentleman we just stared at."

"Oh, him. Childhood acquaintances," Wickham said dismissively.

Lizzy crossed her arms, skeptical. "So what, did you pee on his legos or something?"

"What?" Greg looked up, laughing. "_No_. Why?"

"It would explain the giant _fuck you_ tattooed across his forehead."

"I thought he was always like that."

Lizzy paused. "Oh. Yeah. Probably." She watched Greg shelve journals for a minute, before punching him weakly on the shoulder. "Tell me more about how you know him. What's going on there?"

"Curious one, aren't you?" Greg raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Get coffee with me and I'll tell you. Sunday morning?"

"You're bribing me. Why does everybody bribe me?" Lizzy shook her head. Greg gave a theatrical shrug and grinned.

Lizzy decided that he was a little too cute and a little too sweet to reject. For an objective stranger, he had given her solid advice for dealing with Charlotte. But Lizzy was also very curious.

"Fine. But just in that café over there. In this bookstore."

"Deal."

"Deal."

They shook on it.

* * *

**A/N:** Quickie update! Short and sweet, got the writing bug tonight. Hope this tides you guys over for a bit, I'm starting my next semester soon so updates won't be as frequent. Next up, the party at Netherfield and more Darcy. Always a good thing. Thanks for the love! x


	8. Grapevine

Elizabeth and Charlotte barely spoke a word that evening. It was expected, even anticipated, because it was the typical pattern of how their arguments went. Lizzy was stubborn by nature and Charlotte avoided confrontation, barricading herself inside her room. By morning, nothing had been resolved, and Lizzy left the apartment with a nagging, uncomfortable sensation in the pit of her stomach.

Greg was at the café, and his presence was comforting. Elizabeth had half-expected him not to show up; he didn't work on Fridays. But he had ordered her a latte in advance and sat there, slouched in his seat, his brow creased as he intently read _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_. Lizzy smiled and wondered if he liked it. It was one of her favorites.

"Hey!" he beamed at her when she sat down. "The girl in the red cap."

"Lizzy for short," she laughed, wrapping her gloved hands around one of the cups. "Is this mine?"

"Sure is."

"Thanks," Elizabeth took a sip. She sat back and stared at it pensively. "OK, did I _tell_ you that I drink chai tea lattes or are you just the Overpriced Beverage Whisperer or something?"

Greg glanced at her thoughtfully for a moment, and then shook his head. "See, I just considered being mysterious, but I'm going to go with the safe bet and remind you that you told me yesterday. You also told me to order for you in case you showed up late. And you did."

"Sorry," Lizzy smiled apologetically. "I thought I'd linger around a little longer to see if I could reconcile with the roommate, but she's kind of boxed herself into her room."

"What, no white flag yet?" asked Greg.

"Nope, not yet."

"Sorry."

Elizabeth shrugged. She smiled and tapped the cover of his book. "How far are you?"

They finished coffee and walked around town for a bit, window-shopping and talking. Greg had recently quit his job in the city, choosing to go back to his roots ("Meaning somewhere near Norristown," he elaborated) and start fresh. He was very easy-going. He played the guitar, was a philosophy major and had a warm smile that suddenly made life a little less crappy for an hour. Naturally, Lizzy liked him.

Thirteen blocks later, Elizabeth nudged him.

"Yeah?" Greg asked.

"Tell me how you know Will Darcy."

He chuckled and shook his head. "I was hoping you had forgotten about that. I don't want to say anything if you're friends with the guy."

"I'm not," said Lizzy quickly. "My sister is dating his best friend. So we've bumped elbows a few times, and trust me, he's no friend of mine."

Greg nodded. They had stopped outside of an ice cream shop, an empty one at that, given the cold weather. He leaned against the glass and folded his arms across his chest. "Will's not the easiest person to become friends with. He's very serious."

"That's the most brilliant euphemism for _uptight_ that I ever heard," muttered Lizzy. George laughed. She smiled and took a sip of her chai. Then she peered into the shop, her hands cupped over the glass. "Has he always been so…_so_…"

"Arrogant? _Yeah_," Greg smirked. "Well, yes and no. We knew each other as kids, and he was mostly just shy when we were little. _Really_ shy."

Lizzy frowned. She didn't like imagining Will Darcy as a little boy. It made his behavior excusable.

"We went to the same school together, in Connecticut," Greg explained, his brown eyes fixed on the ground as he stepped on a discarded cigarette butt. "My mom nannied him and his sister, so I usually tagged along. His parents were very good people. We were all friends for a long time. I mean, Georgie was younger, but Will and I went _everywhere_ together. Then he left to go to college."

"Where did he move to?"

"New York," Greg shrugged. "I went to Drexel, in Philadelphia. We rarely saw each other, so the falling-out was expected. I mean, tons of friends lose touch when they go to college. It's just the natural course of things."

_Not always_, Lizzy thought. She decided not to say anything.

"It wasn't until I graduated that I really went back to my roots. Will took an internship in Manhattan after his four years. I moved back to Bridgeport. I became really good friends with his sister, Georgiana, because I was home a lot more than he was. I think that bothered him a lot," he murmured, rubbing his jaw. "I was there for Georgie when he wasn't. Then their parents got divorced in her senior year of high school, and I was her shoulder to cry on, so to speak."

"Were you guys—"

"No," Greg shook his head. "She had a little crush on me, but we were just friends. Also, she was Will's sister, I had to respect that."

"Yeah," Lizzy nodded in complete understanding.

"The September that Will came back, his father was really sick. He had a heart attack over the summer, when Will was gone. Georgie and I were constantly by his side, and I think it just _killed_ Will that I had been there when he hadn't."

"He was jealous?" she asked, surprised. "I would have been grateful."

"I think he was just ashamed. But it wasn't his fault that he was gone when it happened. That was his first internship at a law office."

"Family is so much more important than that," Elizabeth muttered.

"I completely agree," said Greg. He shrugged, "But whatever. It wasn't my decision to make."

"So, what happened?"

"Well, his dad passed away in December. It was terrible. It hit Will and Georgie really hard. But it was like…as _soon_ as it happened, they wanted nothing to do with me. Darcy told me not to come to the funeral. Out of respect for them, I didn't. Frank was like an uncle to me, but I stayed away; I didn't want any confrontation."

Lizzy was staring at him with an open mouth. "Oh wow."

"Georgie stopped talking to me," murmured Greg. "That hurt. She became really frigid, and I think it was her brother's influence. I moved on, you know, got my act together. I eventually moved into the city. It was only last year that I contacted Georgie again. I wanted to catch up, and she invited me over. When I was with her, I found out that Frank Darcy had included me in his will. Not for a lot of money, obviously, but enough to get me started if I wanted to pursue music, which I did. Not that it mattered, because Will somehow found a loophole and worked me out of it."

Elizabeth stood in shock. "But _why_?"

Greg shrugged and gave a confused smile, as if he had been struggling with this question for awhile, too. "_No_ idea. Some deep-seeded jealousy, or something ridiculous like that. Since he came back from that internship, I had the feeling that he resented me for getting so close to his family when he was so distant. It was like a misdirected sense of self-loathing. But it wasn't like I was trying to _replace_ him; I cared about Georgie and Frank."

"You grew up there."

"Exactly."

"Greg, I'm so sorry," she shook her head in disgust.

"Hey," he shrugged. "Shit happens. I've had to deal with a lot of hotheads in my life. I think Will was among the first. That guy just wants to control everything. And if he doesn't approve of someone," Greg paused and moved his hand across his throat, "they're out. He has to have the best of company around him."

"What a prick!"

"Arrogant is the right word, now that I think of it."

Lizzy leaned against the glass, staring out past the street. "I hope Charlie's nothing like that, for Jane's sake."

"Who, Charlie Bingley?"

"You know him?" Elizabeth looked up.

Greg shook his head. "Will told me about him after college, but I never met him. I heard he was really nice."

"He is really nice," Lizzy sighed. "It makes me wonder how he can be friends with Will Darcy."

"Well, Darcy's a loyal friend to have," said Greg, "as long as you're on his good side, which I crossed, apparently."

"That's such bullshit. You should talk to him about that," Lizzy said. "Seriously! Charlie's holding a party, to celebrate the opening of his new hotel. You should come. I'll be referee; that shit needs to be sorted out."

Greg laughed, "That's cute, Lizzy. But it's not that simple."

"You know I'm right. Don't be a chicken. Stand up for what's yours."

"I'm not a _chicken_," said Greg, defensive. "But some ritzy upscale party isn't exactly the best place to confront a guy at."

"It's never stopped me before," murmured Lizzy.

He laughed. "Well, you're a strange girl."

"I know."

"Is this just your backhanded way of asking me to be your date?" asked Greg. They were walking again, and Lizzy had stopped to turn and look at him.

"Are you offering?"

"Well, I'm not saying _no_," he replied. Greg was blushing now, and Lizzy found it adorable.

They left at that, but saw each other an additional three times in the next couple of weeks. And by the third time, while watching saw _Blue Valentine_ in theatres, Greg told Lizzy that he would love to take her to the Netherfield party.

* * *

Jane and Charlie were so disgustingly adorable that they began to irritate anybody who came within three feet of their compacted little love bubble. Only they didn't particularly give a shit about anybody who came within three feet of their fortified sugary happiness.

Especially not Will Darcy, who seemed to always be around because Charlie often needed a second opinion when conducting business. During the two weeks before February's Netherfield banquet, Jane began to see the necessity of having a best friend like Darcy. In contrast, Charlie was very relaxed but last-minute; Will was all business. His phone calls were short and he didn't mince words and he called managers and caterers who had fucked up to _tell_ them that, in no uncertain terms, they had fucked up.

"Well, that's settled," Darcy sighed, pocketing his cell phone. It was the week before the party and he and the Golden Couple were in the ballroom at the Netherfield estate, peering over a fold-out table littered with guest lists, catering menus, a pair of reading glasses, three cups of already cooled coffee, and what appeared to be blueprints for the east wing of the building. "Oh, I called Brenda and she told me to add the Gregor-Cafferty family to the guest list, which brings us to about 87 people. _A small intimate welcoming bash_," he mimicked Charlie's earlier sentiment.

"So, I may have underestimated the number of our contacts," Charlie shrugged. He looked up a moment later, astonished and mildly disturbed, "You called my _mother_?"

"She called me first. You weren't picking up your phone."

Charlie rounded his shoulders. "I'm terrible with returning calls."

"_Yeah_, you are," Jane chimed in, laughing. She was leaning against the opposite wall, cradling a mug of tea. "Last week I thought you were _dead_. Nobody told me that a client took you to a Phillies game."

"I'm still sorry about that, Janie," Charlie spread his arms wide. "C'mere. Bring it on in."

"Hot tea," the blonde lifted her mug as evidence.

"I don't care." He pulled her towards him and she giggled, placing her mug down on the table. They began kissing and nuzzling and Darcy made a noise a little too polite to be considered dry-gagging, but it wasn't exactly far off. Jane blushed and pulled away from Charlie. He looked up in confusion. "What is it?"

She tilted her head subtly in Darcy's direction.

"Oh, but he's always there. That's never stopped us before."

"Unfortunately," Darcy mumbled. He had his reading glasses on and the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. He stopped writing to glance at Jane. "Nothing personal."

She shrugged breezily.

"I'm not hugging him enough lately, that's what's wrong," said Charlie, sitting down in a chair. "I blame you, Jane. When I was single, I showered Will with all this bromantic affection and the absence of it has just hollowed him out into a metallic, PDA-intolerant robot who subsists off of scotch and bad sitcoms."

"You do not _shower me with bromantic affection_," said Darcy dryly. He paused, "But the scotch and sitcom thing is half right."

"We should get you a date for the party," said Jane, smiling widely.

"Yes. _You need to find yourself a girl, mate_," Charlie added, in his best Captain Jack Sparrow imitation.

"Please don't," said Darcy in a monotone.

"I have a friend I could set you up with. Maggie King, she's a sweetheart," said Jane, drumming her fingers over the rim of her mug. Will looked up at her, grimacing with a sort of discomfort she had seen on her sister's face before. Jane couldn't help but laugh, "OK, fine, I get it! You're not the setting-up type. I'm just saying, she's really nice. She works at Elizabeth's school."

Charlie sat up straight, "Hey, just ask Lizzy!"

Jane laughed out loud and stopped herself. "I'm sorry. That was rude."

"No, you're right. They would murder each other. Blood and guts all over these pristine walls," Charlie sighed, beckoning to the room around him, complete in its ivory marble decadence. Darcy smiled slightly and shook his head, not exactly disagreeing with his point.

"Well, _that_, and she already has a date," said Jane, pausing to sip her tea.

"Oh?" Charlie grinned, stroking his imaginary beard. He did this a lot, mostly out of beard envy. This usually happened when they were watching the _Lord of the Rings_ trilogy, because he was fascinated with Gandalf's facial hair.

"Stop _doing_ that!" Jane imitated him, half-laughing. "You're not bearded."

Charlie put his hands in his lap, grinning at her. "I love when you're mad because you're never _actually_ mad."

"Lucky you," she smirked at him.

Darcy was quiet, staring at the blueprints in front of him. He was waiting for Jane to say who Elizabeth was taking to the party, though he had a sinking suspicion that he already knew. Then the topic passed, and he couldn't find it in himself to bring it up again.

"Are you hungry?" Charlie asked Jane. He had gotten up now, his arms around her waist as they sashayed in a really clumsy slow-dance. The lack of music didn't seem to bother them.

Jane was shaking her head. "It's still morning. We had breakfast two hours ago."

"Yeah, Janie, that has absolutely no relevance to what I'm saying."

"He eats all the time. You'll get used to it," Darcy finally said, slouching back in his seat. He flexed his arms and cracked his knuckles, cramped up from writing. Jane winced.

"He does _that_ all the time," noted Charlie, pulling away from his girlfriend.

"You two should just marry each other," Jane pointed out. "These sort of idiosyncrasies could form the foundation of a very understanding and supportive marriage."

"But Will doesn't support me, he tears me down," Charlie argued. Darcy shot him a dirty look. "OK fine, maybe he _has_ single-handedly planned this event for me. And yes, he does legally represent me. And maybe I do enslave him as a personal consultant in all aspects of my life. But that does not mean_—_"

"Bullshit," Darcy scoffed and turned to face Jane. "Did he ever tell you about the time he called me, three in the morning, July of 2002_—ouch_, Charlie, what the fuck?"

Charlie had dropped all of his paperwork, leaping over to punch Will on the shoulder. "No. No! _Not_ cool. You were sworn to secrecy, remember? Georgie was there, you took a blood oath."

"Dude, that wasn't blood; that was cranberry juice. Not even, cranberry _cocktail_. And quite frankly, I don't know how you didn't realize the difference but I assume it's because you were still drunk_—_"

"_Will_."

Jane glanced between them, curious and amused.

"Fine," Darcy raised both hands in surrender. "Withdrawn."

"_Good_."

"That's not fair!" laughed Jane. "Now I need to know."

"I'll tell you sometime; it's excellent leverage," Darcy said smugly.

Charlie rolled his eyes and shrugged, as if his friend was too ridiculous to deal with. "I hate him so much."

"_Bromantically_, Charlie?" deadpanned Will.

"Shut up."

* * *

**A/N:** Hey, brownie points to a reader who gets this chapter's Marvin Gaye reference. What up.

Review this Chapter Report Possible Abuse Add Story to Favorites Add Story to Story Alert Add Author to Favorites Add Author to Author Alert Add Story to Community 1. Traffic2. Traffic: Part II3. Compromise4. How to Be a Perfect Hostess5. Steady, As She Goes6. Whatever Happened to Independence?7. There's a Story There8. Grapevine9. Manners, Or Lack Therof10. Manners, Or Lack Therof: Part II11. Bruises12. The View from the Afternoon13. You Know I'm No Good14. Delicate

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	9. Manners, Or Lack Therof: Part I

**A/N: **I'm snowed in! Hence, the new chapter. I'm also blaming procrastination. And a recent viewing of P&P. And an intense love for these characters. Yep. Enjoy!

* * *

The moving boxes began to appear around the apartment at a very _gradual_ pace—Lizzy had almost missed them. But by the beginning of February, the boxes occupied a third of the foyer and the apartment began to look considerably less cluttered. It hit her like a swift punch; Charlotte was moving out. She had known Charlotte would be moving out. They had talked about it, and like all of their recent interactions, the conversation had been short and emotionless and devoid of proper eye contact. But Lizzy was suddenly very sad and there was no getting around that.

"You're moving," she said simply, over breakfast that morning. Well, it was lunch but they had both slept in.

Charlotte looked up from her bowl of cereal. "Uh-huh. Didn't we talk about this?"

Elizabeth shrugged and got up from the table. She started on the dishes and scrubbed the coffee pot. Charlotte sighed heavily and pushed away from the table, and then dropped off her bowl in the sink. "Thanks—and Lizzy?"

"What?" said Lizzy gruffly.

"Never mind."

The house phone rang and Lizzy grabbed it from its receiver, holding it between her ear and shoulder as she continued washing dishes. "Hey, Jane."

Jane was, of course, very busy. This was one of three phone calls that morning. She had been working with Charlie for the last three weeks to make the Netherfield banquet absolute perfection—ever the doting girlfriend. Lizzy cocked her head and smiled. She couldn't tell which one of them was luckier to have the other. At the moment, her sister sounded more calm than she had been in awhile.

"_Hi Lizzy, I'm not calling for any favors this time._" A beat, "_But thank you so much for the name of that florist, because Caroline Bingley was about to have a conniption when Ophelia's Flowers dropped out_."

"Hey, that's completely fine," said Elizabeth breezily. "I knew them from Dad's birthday party, 2008." She turned off the faucet and laughed, frowning, "Wait, Ophelia's Flowers? Seriously? Isn't that a little morbid?"

"_Why?_"

"Naming your florist company after a Shakespearean character who drowned herself, that's all."

"_Um, it's very clearly poetic_," said Jane. "_And a little ironic, because they canceled on us. But listen, I was going to ask if you wanted a lift to the party tonight. I have to be there a couple hours early; I want to help Charlie out with any last-minute preparations. I just didn't know if Greg was picking you up as a date or if you're meeting up there_."

"We're meeting up there," she said, switching the phone to her other ear. "It's all very casual. I wouldn't even consider him a date."

"_Oh please, this is just you trying to convince yourself otherwise_," Jane teased. "_You like him!_"

"Do not!"

"_The dress you're wearing tonight—old or new?_"

"Old," Lizzy said with conviction.

"_Liar._"

"Shut up. It was on sale. …OK fine, it wasn't."

Jane giggled on the other end, and Lizzy laughed as a reflex. Then she reminded her that their parents would get to Netherfield a little late but would be bringing Mary, who was taking a semester off from her studies. Then she asked Elizabeth to be a little nicer to Charlotte ("I'm _trying_," she answered); and then she reminded her that they would pick her up at 6:45 sharp, so actually being in her dress and finding shoes to match would be helpful. Lizzy wrote herself a memo and stuck the post-it to the refrigerator.

* * *

The Netherfield banquet _was_ ritzy and upscale; they had left it up to Charlie to downplay the decadence. Though Lizzy had already expected suits and expensive dresses. The ballroom was absolutely beautiful. Silver tinsel clung to every possible surface (recycled from Christmas, no doubt) and tea-lights twinkled from the ceiling. Round tables with cream velvet-covered chairs. Waiters in penguin suits. It all vaguely resembled a wedding, only there was a DJ instead of a band.

Lizzy stood beside John Bennet close to the back of the room, past the gaggle of dancers and the deafening speakers that blared mildly depressing pop ballads. Both were armed with a glass of champagne and partook in their favorite activity of people-watching. Their recent victim was Lizzy's own mother, who was schmoozing with Charlie's uncle as if her life depended on it. Mary, brunette, pixie-cut and quite pretty in a violet dress, smiled politely at her side.

"Poor girl," John sighed, "I think your mom has shifted her focus; she's looking to snare Mary a boyfriend now."

"Yeah," Elizabeth tilted her head. "I don't know, Charlie's uncle seems a little up there in age." He elbowed her gently and Lizzy grinned, nudging him back. "I love Mary, but thank goodness Mom's moved on to the younger ones. I don't know how much more heckling I could take. Brian Ventresca—_your neighbor_—called me yesterday. She really did give him my number."

"She's a desperate woman who wants grandbabies; what can you do?" he smiled, eyes bright.

"Grit your teeth and deal with it."

"That's the secret to marriage, Lizzy." John emptied his glass of champagne and swiveled on his feet. "_Garçon._ I'd like another." He plucked a second flute off of a waiter's tray.

"You're driving."

"Oh, right." John handed her his glass and Elizabeth grinned.

Charlotte joined them a minute later. She hugged John and asked him how the girls were doing, to which he delivered some dry and mildly affectionate response. Bill Collins followed close behind, jogging his left leg in rhythm to the current song. His hair was slicked back, his suit was electric blue and he wore unnecessary cuff links. Then he glanced at Elizabeth and raised his eyebrows. "_Two_ glasses, Lizzy?"

"Oh, I'm getting especially tipsy tonight," she deadpanned. Charlotte caught her eye and Lizzy smiled at her; a secret truce. "You look really nice."

"Thanks," said Charlotte. She had her hair pulled back in a loose bun, and wore a smart little black cocktail dress. She eyed Lizzy carefully and grinned, "Who'd _you_ dress up for?"

"I didn't dress up for anybody," said Lizzy, crossing her arms defensively.

"Oh please, I _made_ you try on that dress months ago. You're in heels, and I see _mascara_. There is definitely a boy."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'll sort through her text messages later and let you know," said John quickly. Lizzy shot him a dirty look; he chuckled and pulled her in for a one-armed hug.

"Elizabeth, might I trouble you for a dance?" asked Bill, straightening the lapels of his jacket. He flashed her a winning smile. She most definitely did not want to be troubled for a dance.

But she chanced a glimpse at Charlotte's face and decided to be nice. After all, he was her best friend's husband-to-be. At the last second, Charlotte took her fiancé's hand and tugged him towards the dance floor, beaming at Lizzy from over her shoulder. "Sorry, girl. We need all the practice we can get before the wedding."

Lizzy was thankful for the rescue, intentional or not. She watched Collins lead Charlotte with precise, intricate footwork and cocked her head to one side. Was he attempting a waltz?

"The wedding," John echoed. A look of comprehension crossed his face. "Wait, _that's_ the guy Charlotte's marrying? Seriously?"

"Stop it. See, this is where my negativity comes from," Lizzy pointed at him. "I'm trying to be supportive."

John mimed locking his mouth and pocketing the key. He chuckled when his daughter rolled her eyes. "Well, at least Charlotte was right about one thing. You do look very pretty tonight, Liz."

"Thanks," said Elizabeth with a smile. She felt pretty—her dress was deep emerald, long-sleeved with a modest neckline. But it was pretty snug and the skirt was a little too short, so she kept tugging it down self-consciously. She had also borrowed a pair of Jane's heels and had taken an extra five minutes on her hair. It was down now, long and dark and curly and thankfully lacking in the knots and frizz department.

Lizzy had stopped trying to convince herself that she _hadn't_ dressed up for Greg. So, she liked him. Big whoop.

"Well, _I _don't believe that there isn't a guy," John said confidently. "But it's OK, I respect your privacy." Lizzy laughed out loud, and he gave up. "OK, I don't. Tell me."

She smiled at him, "I will when I come back. I want to go find Jane. After that, you owe me a dance."

"You're on."

Lizzy weaved through the tables and chairs, standing aside to let the occasional giggling drunk girl pass by. Jane saw her from a few feet away and waved, rushing over as fast as her heels could carry her. Several heads whipped around to stare; it was hard not to. Jane was almost ethereally beautiful. Her strawberry blonde curls were pinned up on her head she wore a dramatic, backless red dress with a full tulle skirt that fanned out past her knees.

"People are going to attempt to murder you tonight out of pure envy," Lizzy told her seriously, once they had hugged. "So I asked Dad to bring nunchucks, for defensive purposes."

"How clever of you!" Jane grinned. "You think of everything, Lizzy, always prepared."

"I try. Hey, have you seen Greg?"

Jane stood up on her tiptoes and scanned the room. She and Greg had met the week before, when Jane had cooked them dinner at her apartment. Her brow crinkled and she shook her head. "No, I don't see him. Check with Vince; he has a guest list."

"Shit. We have a _bouncer_?"

"Kind of."

"That's intense," Lizzy smiled.

"Right?" said Charlie, and Elizabeth jumped. He laughed and steadied her. "Relax, I didn't mean to sneak up on you. Who are you looking for?"

"Her date," chirped Jane.

"He's _not_ my date," Lizzy amended.

"I'll dance with you in the meantime," offered Charlie, setting down his glass of wine. "Jane doesn't even want to yet." He jutted out his lower lip and pouted at her. Charlie looked handsome, as always. His red hair was artfully messy, and he was all easygoing grace in a black tuxedo. His tie had also gone missing in the course of an hour.

"I still have to find my parents!" Jane explained. "And Mary, how's Mary doing?" she turned to her sister.

"Suffering silently. They're over there," Elizabeth pointed towards the back of the banquet room. Jane thanked her and set off in the opposite direction, and Lizzy let Charlie lead her off for a dance.

Forty minutes, many acquaintances and two dances with Charlie later, Lizzy wandered around slightly buzzed, carrying her heels in one hand. Still no sign of Greg. It suddenly occurred to her to check her phone, which she had left back at the table. Moving past people and excusing herself, she made it back and pulled her cell phone out of her coat pocket. Two missed calls. _Of course_. Lizzy sighed and pushed her way out into the hall.

The music wasn't as loud there, and she stood before a giant bay window and dialed voicemail.

What greeted her was some quick, rambling message from one, Greg Wickham. Her heart sank. It was all fluff and apology, and Elizabeth had a hard time trying to pick up on an exact _reason_ for his no-show. But even if he had made an excuse, Lizzy knew the real reason he hadn't shown up. It was Darcy—which was ridiculous, because she had barely even seen the guy all night. No doubt that he was being hounded by Caroline Bingley and company. Lizzy turned and stared out the window. It was starting to snow.

For a brief moment, she considered stepping outside for some fresh air. But then she remembered that her coat was still in the ballroom. Muttering under her breath, Lizzy turned on her heels to march back inside.

Which was when she nearly collided into Will Darcy.

He steadied her at the last minute and Lizzy pulled away uncomfortably, feeling her cheeks flush. Or maybe it was too much wine. And the sting of feeling rejected. Darcy cleared his throat, "Hello."

"Hi."

"…I came over here to ask if you wanted to dance."

"OK."

"Great."

_Oh. So this is happening._ Neither of them said anything for a few seconds. Lizzy took the opportunity to notice his expensive, well-fitting suit. He was suddenly taller than she remembered, and his dress shirt brought out the blue of his eyes. It annoyed her.

* * *

They danced to a bluesy, lilting Joni Mitchell song and Elizabeth tried to distract herself by counting the number of couples around them, before playing a silent round of "Spot the Ginger". There were only three, shockingly—Charlie, Caroline and an additional relative. These distractions only worked for about thirty seconds, before Elizabeth told Darcy that he had to say _something_ before she completely lost her mind. "This is the longest dance of my life."

Darcy arched an eyebrow delicately. "Well, what would you like me to say?"

"That response will do fine for now," Lizzy grinned. Will grew silent again, leading them around the dance floor.

She didn't like him holding her; or rather, she didn't like being this _close_ to him. It surprised Lizzy how much she suddenly disliked Will Darcy. She blamed Greg's account of what had happened. It had only given her further incentive to hate him. Lizzy stole a glance at Will then; he was looking off to the side, watching Jane and Charlie dance. She followed his line of vision and smiled reflexively. Charlie held Jane very close, their fingers intertwined. He pressed a kiss against her hair, one hand at the small of her back. Then he dipped her and she giggled.

"They're really good together, don't you think?" said Elizabeth, watching them. "Look, he even lets her lead sometimes. That is true love right there."

Darcy glanced down and said nothing for a moment. It seemed as if he were choosing his words carefully. "You think he loves her?" he finally said.

Lizzy shrugged. "I don't know. You can never tell what's going on between two people; especially not from standing on the outside."

They both fell quiet again, and stayed that way for a full minute. Lizzy watched Jane pull away from Charlie, yawning and shaking her head. Charlie nodded understandingly and led her back to their table.

"I didn't expect to run into you," Darcy said suddenly. "A couple of weeks ago, at the bookstore."

Lizzy smirked and cast him a sideways glance. She didn't think he was going to bring it up, but he was probably as curious as she had been. "Yeah, _fancy_ that."

"…Do you go there often?" Will asked quietly.

"Maybe I do," Lizzy said cryptically.

Darcy didn't say anything more, and Elizabeth grew too irritated to keep her mouth shut. "Oh come _on_, this is the most roundabout way of speaking ever. Why don't you just ask what you want to ask?"

He looked at her swiftly, tight-lipped and uncertain. "Well, how long have you known Greg Wickham?"

"Not as long as _you've _know him, don't worry," she said. Will stopped dancing for a moment. Elizabeth watched his face very carefully, schooled into a mask of tight composure. Then they continued dancing and Lizzy looked up. "What, I take it you two aren't friends anymore? No poker nights and football games?"

"No," said Darcy sharply. "Why? What has he told you?" They had stopped dancing again and stood in the center of the room, gauging the other's reaction. Will's hand still lingered on Lizzy's waist, and she felt the gentle pressure of his fingertips prickle against her skin. She was certain now; she _absolutely_ didn't like him.

"Very little," answered Elizabeth. "I hear different things from different people—I can't seem to set the record straight about you."

"I'm sorry that you didn't ask me first," Darcy said harshly.

"Well, we're not very good friends, are we?"

"I guess not."

Lizzy folded her arms across her chest. Darcy looked at her. People were staring at them now, but neither noticed. The song tapered off into its last few low notes and ended.

"Thank you for the dance."

"You too," she said.

He watched her go.

* * *

She ended the evening in a dark mood. By midnight, Lizzy was sitting out on the terrace with Charlotte, hugging her coat closer to herself. Both girls watched the snow come down in slow, windswept flurries. Charlotte reached out to catch one and it melted in her gloved hand.

"Remember the first snowstorm we had?" she asked Lizzy. "When we first bought the apartment?"

"Yeah," Elizabeth murmured, smiling faintly. "We made a horrible first snowman."

"He had a Snapple cap for a nose," she laughed.

"And a beret, because we didn't have a top hat."

"Oh yeah, our French snowman. We named him Pierre."

"_Jacques_-Pierre," Lizzy grinned. She looked out past the railing; the property seemed dark and expansive now, and the street was packed with cars. She turned back to look at Charlotte. "I'm sorry." Charlotte faced her, her cheeks pink from the cold. "I've been meaning to say it for awhile. I support you in whatever you want to do. You're my friend. But you can make your own decisions."

"Thank you," said Charlotte softly. Her breath came out in cold tufts, as if she were exhaling smoke. They were quiet for a full minute, until Charlotte nudged her gently. "Hey. I heard Mama Bennet chatting up Charlie and Caroline Bingley earlier tonight. Darcy was there too"

"Oh," Elizabeth winced. "Oh, poor Jane."

"Jane was dancing the Cha-Cha Slide with Mary, so ignorance is bliss at this point. Don't fill her in," Charlotte muttered under her breath. "But I was eavesdropping even _after_ your mom left. Charlie's sister is such a bitch. It's like she was adopted or something."

Caroline Bingley was nothing short of a bitch, this was true. Elizabeth had spotted her twice that evening. She had made an effort to stay particularly close to Jane that night and often walked around gossiping with her arm threaded through hers. Jane mainly looked uncomfortable, though she was sure to answer with a polite reply every now and then. The second time was after Elizabeth had danced with Darcy; she had eagerly asked him for a dance herself and he had obliged, sullen and unenthusiastic. _Good_, Lizzy thought.

"What did she say?" Elizabeth asked.

"Nothing surprising," Charlotte shrugged. "She just rolled her eyes and said a few catty things about your mother and apples not falling far from their trees. I think Charlie ignored her."

"_Ugh_. Let's hope so."

"Oh, he's smitten with your sister. Jane has to take advantage of that before she loses him."

Lizzy turned, her brow furrowed. "She's not going to _lose_ him."

Charlotte shrugged. "You never know."

Elizabeth sighed and stood up, stretching her limbs. "Let's head back inside. It's getting a little too cold."

"Agreed," said Charlotte. Lizzy helped her up and she smiled, brushing the snow off of her heels. "By the way, I saw you dancing with Will Darcy earlier."

"Don't even talk to me about that," Lizzy muttered, pulling off her gloves. She stuffed them into her coat pocket and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "Pisses me off so much. I just…_nope_, I can't even talk about it. I'm just gonna wind myself up again."

"Well, he's hot."

"Then you take him."

"Getting married," Charlotte showed off her engagement band.

"That's your own fault," Lizzy smirked. Charlotte smiled crookedly at her; they linked arms and walked back inside.


	10. Manners, Or Lack Therof: Part II

_I die when he comes around to take you home_  
_ I'm too shy_  
_ I should have kissed you when we were alone_  
_ What am I darlin'?_  
_ A whisper in your ear?_  
_What am I, darlin'?_  
_ The boy you can fear?_

"Cheers Darling" - Damien Rice

* * *

Darcy had never been the partying type. He wasn't outgoing like Charlie. Not that he considered this to be a personality _flaw_, simply a facet of his character. Darcy liked to keep to himself, and there was absolutely no problem with that. Of course, being a wallflower had its downside when a particular girl chose to staple herself to his side throughout the evening. Caroline Bingley was the perpetual thorn in his side.

"You should go dance," said Darcy, watching as couples took to the floor. He stood with his back to the wall, one hand shoved in his pocket and the other holding an empty shot glass. He couldn't remember what Charlie had poured in there. Cognac or scotch—one of those.

Caroline smiled impishly and curled her arm around his. "Are you asking me to dance?"

"No."

She laughed, and he didn't know what was so funny.

"Will! Carrie!" Charlie bounded up to them, grinning widely. "So happy I found you—there's somebody I want you to meet. Well, three people I want you to meet."

Darcy already knew who they were. He had seen Elizabeth greet them earlier that evening. It had been the one time he had seen her all evening, for about a millisecond, before she quickly skirted off somewhere else. The girl moved fast; he had to credit her that.

Her father was very tall and very wry. Will thought his name was John, but maybe he hadn't heard Charlie correctly. Or maybe he had simply forgotten, because almost immediately after this, the mother began to talk—and Jesus Christ on a cracker, she refused to stop. _Why won't she stop?_

"It is _gorgeous_ here, Charlie, so decadent and _fancy_. We all feel under dressed!" chuckled Theresa Bennet, her hand on Charlie's shoulder. "And the staff has been _very_ attentive, too. I've never stayed at one of your family's hotels but John and I will have to soon, won't we, John?"

John glanced at his wife and smiled ironically. "We would have to get a second mortgage on the house, but sure."

"Oh, _stop_. He's kidding. Charlie, have you danced with Jane yet?" asked Tess, leaning in a little closer. Darcy got a whiff of very strong perfume. "You should know that Jane is a _great_ dancer; she made it to regionals when she was a girl for tap dance and ballet! All the other girls were jealous because she was so _statuesque_ and _graceful_."

"And tall," added Mary. All three of them—Charlie, Will and Caroline—looked at her in surprise. The younger Bennet girl was short, waif-like and unseen. She sipped from a flute of champagne and looked on vacantly most of the time. She also looked about fourteen, but she must have been at least four years older.

"Yes, and tall," Tess agreed. "Of course, this was when the boys started to notice her. Oh, _that_ was hell. We had to fend them off with a stick."

"Lizzy did a pretty good job helping," murmured John. Darcy couldn't decide if he was joking or not.

"No," Charlie said quickly, with an uneasy laugh, "to answer your question, no. I haven't danced with Jane yet. I'm holding her to it. But I've danced with your other daughter, and Lizzy's very good. She definitely kept things interesting," he smiled. "You have a very clever girl on your hands there."

"Lizzy?" Tess laughed, her eyes crinkling. "Lizzy's all right. We took her to the same dance rehearsals—_biggest_ waste of time and money in my entire life. She was very easily provoked, _always_ getting into fights with the other girls. God bless her, she tore my nerves to shreds."

Darcy couldn't help smirking. He wasn't exactly surprised.

"There's Jane now," said Mr. Bennet, peering over his shoulder. Jane was talking to a colleague that Will knew—a partner at his law firm, Brad Something. He asked her to dance and she looked around, possibly for Charlie. Then she hesitated and finally accepted his hand; Brad led her to the dance floor.

"I'll get her next time," said Charlie with a smile.

"You better!" Tess fluffed her short, graying blonde hair. "My Jane looks beautiful tonight. Hold onto her, Charlie."

Caroline cleared her throat. Jane's mother looked up, as if noticing her for the first time. "What a stunning dress!" she told her.

The redhead flashed her a small smile. "Balenciaga."

"Oh."

Darcy glanced at Caroline's dress. He didn't understand fashion, but he had heard her describe it to somebody as "cutting edge"—all he saw were strips of tight, skin-bearing black fabric. And a thick cluster of pearls wrapped around her neck. Caroline could have been very pretty if she didn't dress like a high-class escort. To compensate, her red hair had been pulled back into an elegant bun, so that was something.

John eventually persuaded his wife to dance (Will sensed this was more about shutting her up than being romantic), and Mary set off somewhere in search of the dessert table. Or booze. Darcy couldn't decide if he had made her out to be a closeted alcoholic in his people-watching fantasy. Caroline insisted that she was.

"Stop it, you guys," Charlie shook his head, smiling. He pulled out a chair and collapsed into the seat. He loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves.

"What else is there to do?" Caroline yawned. "I enjoy watching strangers and making up stories about them."

"You mean judging them."

"What's the difference? Oh, and their _mother_," she shuddered. "Let's hope the apple falls very, _very_ far from the tree. But that's not usually the case, is it?"

"Excuse me," said a small voice. Caroline moved out of the way, and Charlotte Lucas passed, smiling politely at Charlie and Will. She shot a dirty look to Caroline.

"Christ, I think she heard me," Caroline grinned, more amused than anything else.

Darcy took a flute of champagne from the table behind him. Charlie leaned his elbows against his knees and watched Jane dance, smiling and giggly and pretty as ever. He smiled as a reflex. She was just too lovely.

"What are you gonna _do_, Charlie?" asked his sister. Caroline was watching Jane as well, her blue eyes narrowed skeptically. Then she smiled at her brother, curious. "You're going back to the city on Monday."

"So?"

"_So_, I guess you'll be getting back to reality. Goodbye Jane and Hicktown, Pennsylvania."

"No," said Charlie patiently. "Nothing's going to change. I'm not leaving the country. We're only a couple of hours away, give or take. Taking the train would be even faster."

"Yes, but you're not going to have _time_ for her once you get back to New York," said Caroline evenly. "I spoke to Daddy the other day—you have your work cut out for you back at the office. Plus, the project in Switzerland. You leave for Zurich in the spring. You have to be fair to her."

"Jane understands, Caroline. It's not like she doesn't have a job either. She works nonstop at the clinic."

"Maybe she won't have time for _you_, then."

"She will. I'm her boyfriend."

Darcy looked between the two siblings and said nothing.

"Charlie, I love you," Caroline sighed. "But do you really think you're the only one who's noticed that she's sweet and beautiful around these parts? _Hold onto her, Charlie!_" Caroline mimicked Tess Bennet in a high, shrill imitation.

Charlie was beginning to look uncomfortable. He fiddled with the button on his sleeve. "It's not like that," he said quietly. But he was looking at the dance floor again. Will looked, too. Jane and Brad Something were still dancing. They separated after a minute, and Jane joined Mary to dance the Cha-Cha Slide.

"Maybe I'm wrong," Caroline suggested breezily. She set down her glass and sighed. "I'm going to the ladies' room. I have to powder my nose."

When she was gone, Charlie looked up at Will. "You don't agree with her, do you?"

Darcy shrugged and took a sip of his champagne. "Not really. I suppose she thinks that you and Jane are very serious. Long distance relationships can ruin that sort of thing."

Charlie ran a hand through his hair. He shook his head and chuckled, "Will…I'm falling for her. I'm falling in love with Jane."

Will turned his head, his brow furrowed. "No, you're not," he said confidently.

"I am."

"It's been four months, Charlie."

"You've never _been_ in love, Will. If you had, you would know that these things have absolutely no regard for time," said his friend. Charlie had an easygoing grin on his face now.

"That explains why you've been in love so frequently, right?" asked Darcy sarcastically. Charlie whipped his head around to glare at him and Will laughed, "Forgive me, but it's true. This is a pattern with you and you know it. The day of the car accident, the _minute_ you met Jane Bennet, I swear I could see the cartoon hearts sprout into your eyes. It took 60 seconds for you. Hook, line and sinker."

"What are you implying?" Charlie asked. His smile had disappeared.

"Do you think she loves you?"

"I don't know. Do you?"

Darcy shrugged. "I don't know her that well. Why are you asking me?"

He knew why he was asking him. Charlie valued Will's opinion—Charlie was the thrill-seeker and Will was the calculated, level-headed one. It had been that way since college. Charlie trusted him. But maybe it wasn't enough.

"You're wrong," said Charlie; he crossed his arms over his chest. "Caroline's wrong, too. We're going to be fine."

"OK. It's not like I'm hoping you _won't_ be, Charlie. I'm just asking you to think about it."

"Yeah, well… I'm going to go ask her to dance now."

"You do that."

"I will."

Charlie left to find Jane; Darcy watched him get caught up in a throng of guests and acquaintances. They all shook his hand, thumped him on the back and thanked him for the invitation before launching into a discussion on oil prices or fixed interest rates. Thus Charlie was swallowed up by traffic. Darcy couldn't help but laugh—being a host to a party as big as this one must have been terrible. Then again, he didn't particularly like talking to anybody that much. Bingley, on the other hand, could probably handle it.

Darcy watched a few strangers drunkenly bicker about something for awhile, before he lost interest. He lifted the flute of champagne to his lips and paused. He saw Elizabeth Bennet then, striking in green, walking briskly from two tables away—then she disappeared out into the hall.

He looked down into his glass, drained the rest of it and walked out of the ballroom.

* * *

Lizzy woke up in a t-shirt and underwear, with the sheets twisted and bunched up on one side of her mattress. Blearily, she looked up at her alarm clock:_ 12:41_. She plopped her head back down on the pillow and stayed that way for about five minutes. Then she found sweatpants, avoided hitting the doorframe, and dragged her hungover self into the kitchen to make a fresh pot of coffee.

It was surprisingly sunny for such a cold day, and Elizabeth snapped the blinds shut. Charlotte had left her a plate of cooled pancakes—a bottle of maple syrup was still on the table, too. Lizzy peeled the yellow post-it note stuck onto it:

_Hi Lizard,_

_I guarantee that these pancakes will be cold by the time you wake up. That's your fault. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye! I wanted to let you sleep. Bill thought you were in a coma. I'll see you in two days when I get the rest of my stuff! Be good._

_—C_

She folded the note and pouted, suddenly depressed all over again. Lizzy peeped into the living room. Two things startled her. The first was how efficient of a packer Charlotte was, despite years of procrastination in any and all endeavors. The second was that most of the furnishings at the apartment apparently weren't hers. All that was left was a DVD rack, an armchair and two bookcases. Lizzy frowned at the bare patch of floorboard. "I _liked_ that coffee table."

At least Charlotte had left her the car. Well, she had bought it off of her for a reduced price, given the fact that the bumper was still missing.

"My bad," Lizzy murmured to herself. When nobody responded, she swerved around on her bare feet. Another new development: the apartment was empty. She slumped her shoulders. "I should get a dog or something."

But at that precise moment, she wouldn't be alone. The buzzer went off and Lizzy opened the door, bleary-eyed but smiling to see Jane so early in the day. Well, it was early to her. It was a pleasant surprise.

"Janie!"

"Can I be here right now? I don't want to be alone."

"Why would you be—oh."

Lizzy took a moment to properly look at her sister; she took in the messy, knotted curls. She saw Jane's pale face, the dark circles beneath red-rimmed puffy eyes. Jane's bottom lip trembled and Elizabeth pulled her in wordlessly for a hug before the older girl burst into tears.


	11. Bruises

It would have been more convenient to stay, but Elizabeth knew very well that her apartment was unsuitable for this sort of thing. For one, the strongest thing in the pantry that Jane could down was caffeinated herbal tea.

"And Red Bull, I have Red Bull," suggested Lizzy lightly.

Jane hiccoughed.

Lizzy took her down the street to Mick's Pub. It was actually run by a Russian, not an Irishman, and the walls were crowded with pop culture memorabilia and film noir movie posters. Also, topless chicks. They were the only women there, but it was Sunday after all—Sunday afternoon.

"More of this," Jane murmured, pushing her empty shot glass towards the bartender. He obligingly refilled it with vodka. "Thanks, Vlad."

Lizzy brushed Jane's dark blonde hair out of her eyes. "Tell me," she encouraged gently. "Tell me how it happened."

Jane took in a breath, squeezed her eyes shut and tossed back the shot glass. Then she started coughing.

"Oh sweetie, you don't _taste_ it."

"I didn't mean to!"

Elizabeth covered her smile with her hand; her sister was nearly 29 years old. She couldn't decide if her innocence was adorable or just naïve.

"We broke up," Jane explained.

"I got that part. How?"

"I don't know."

"What do you _mean_ you don't know?"

Jane began to cry again. Quiet sobs this time, with fat tears sliding down her cheeks. "Janie," Lizzy pleaded. She squeezed her sister's hand.

Jane's story was full of contradictions. Charlie had been slightly tipsy the night of the Netherfield banquet, but he had no desire to stay there; Jane drove them back to her place.

"He was so cute," she laughed despite herself, wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. Vlad gave her a look and Lizzy handed her a tissue. "His hair was all messed up, and he was tripping over himself. And Charlie—Charlie's pretty affectionate in general, but he was even more so then. Kissing and hugging and holding my hand."

"So? I don't understand the problem," said Lizzy.

"The problem was that I didn't want to _do_ anything," said Jane sternly, fixing her dark-eyed gaze on Lizzy. "I mean, I _did_. Obviously. He's…"

"…kind of a beautiful person."

"Right. But he was a little drunk. He insisted that he wasn't, but he was. I had this awful premonition of him falling asleep on me. Yeah, you laugh, but it's happened."

"Brian?" Lizzy guessed with a smirk.

"Yeah. How'd you know?"

"He took cold medication a lot."

"Oh. Well—Charlie's very special to me." Jane took in a breath too quickly, and it made her hiccup. "So, I told him that I didn't want to then, and he _completely_ took it the wrong way. Then again, I don't think he realized how much he had drank."

"What happened?" prodded Lizzy.

"Suddenly he's like, _Jane, where are we going with this?_" Jane sat up straight, wide-eyed. "Which is a legitimate question, I had been thinking about it, too. But I didn't want to talk about it _then_, so I told him we would talk about it later. And—"

"Hey." A man who had been sitting three seats away interrupted her story. He had a draft beer in one hand and his other arm was wrapped around the back of Jane's chair. He grinned at her, "You're pretty. Why are you sad? Let me buy you a drink."

"Fuck off, we're talking," said Lizzy.

The man raised his eyebrows and turned away.

"Go on," her younger sister encouraged.

"Um," Jane hooked her blonde hair behind her ears and shook her head, "Charlie said that he couldn't understand why I was avoiding the conversation. I said that now wasn't the right time. He said that was bullshit. He said," Jane bit her lip and looked down at her hands, "he said that I just didn't want a _serious_ relationship like he did. He said that I had been pushing him away all week."

She was crying again, and Elizabeth hugged her around the shoulders. "Oh, Jane."

"It was ridiculous!" laughed Jane, brushing away tears. "He knew I had been busy at the clinic towards the end of January. I had _five_ new patients and then Andrew fractured his spine, which was a nightmare all over again. Charlie…well, he was supportive at the time. But then it just came out of _no_where!"

"Did you explain that to him?"

"I did."

"What happened next?"

"He was upset. He got up and paced a lot. Ran his fingers through his hair a lot. He does that," she murmured, looking down into her empty glass. "Then he said that he would be getting back to the city on Monday, which I already knew. _Then_ he said that he would be going to Zurich for a month, which I _didn't_ know."

Lizzy frowned and squeezed her hand. "When?"

"He leaves in late March. For business," Jane said softly.

"I wonder why he hadn't told you before."

"Probably because he didn't think it was an issue. I mean, granted the last four months haven't exactly been _serious business_," Jane air-quoted gloomily. "We never sat down and had a proper talk about what was going on between us, and I didn't really want to. The last thing I wanted was to scare him off. But apparently you can do that just the same!"

Lizzy glanced up at her sympathetically.

"I just wish I knew what had happened," Jane murmured. "I was just thinking…_who_ have you been talking to? If he had a problem, he should have spoken up. So either he shoved his feelings down or discovered them all in three and a half hours."

"Yeah." Elizabeth cast her a sideways glance. Or he actually _had_ been talking to somebody. _Oh, that bitch._

Jane asked for another shot and finished her story. Having not had a single dispute in the course of four months, their disagreement ballooned into a full-fledged fight. "I've never really fought with a boyfriend before. I mean this argument _mutated_ and grew five heads and suddenly we were arguing about everything and nothing. And I do mean nothing because we got _no_where. He wasn't telling me everything. He was holding back," Jane shook her head in disbelief. "It ended with Charlie saying that he had to leave on Monday and maybe it would be best if we took a _break_ for a little while."

"A break," Elizabeth echoed slowly.

"Yeah."

"Oh, sweetie, that's good! So you're not _really_ broken—"

"We are. I told him I couldn't do that," Jane said softly. "So then he said _fine_, and called himself a cab and left."

Lizzy frowned. She wondered if Jane knew that Charlie might have misinterpreted her words. Perhaps he thought that she 'couldn't do that' because she wanted to break up with him. She opened her mouth to tell Jane.

"I got a message on my phone from Caroline Bingley this morning," Jane said first. "She had no idea—I'm sure Charlie didn't tell her. She's going back to the city too, and she called to say how great it was to meet me. She said she was glad we got so close."

_Yeah, I bet she was glad._

"Jane, maybe she's the one who egged him on about that," Lizzy suggested. "If she's leaving too, she could've easily suggested it to him."

Jane lifted her head, shocked. "No. Then why would she leave me a message like that?"

"To throw you off."

"Lizzy, I don't think she's that clever," muttered Jane.

"Um, she's not exactly a ditz. Irritating, yes. Stuck-up, _definitely_. But I can smell a Daddy's girl who twists around facts to get what she wants from a mile away. This whole thing reeks of Chanel perfume."

Jane shrugged. "Well, it came out of Charlie's mouth, didn't it? I broke up with Charlie, not Caroline."

That was true. Lizzy frowned and hugged her sister. "You love him, don't you?"

"Yeah," Jane said softly. Lizzy wiped the tears from her cheeks and she looked up at her. "I love him. And I didn't _say_ anything, and that's the problem. I fucked it up."

"Well, did _he_ say he loved you?"

"…No."

Elizabeth shrugged.

Jane ended up spending the rest of the day at Lizzy's place—and about half of the following week there, too.

There was a lot that Lizzy needed to tell her sister, but wouldn't. For one, she and Charlie had clearly fallen apart through a lack of communication. This was what happened when you threw together two easy mannered, non-confrontational people. Everything would be felt and nothing would be said, and then somebody's cup would _very_ much runneth over with pent-up frustrations and emotions.

"There's the flaw in my thinking," said Elizabeth to a fellow teacher the next day. They were out in the baseball field, both of their classes playing kickball in the pitch. "You would expect them to never argue, because they're so easy-going. But the truth of the matter is that everybody _feels_ something and if it's not expressed, it's toxic, isn't it?"

Maggie King smirked at her. They were both sitting on the bleachers, watching Graham Rothman sprint ahead to first base. "You're preaching to the choir," she laughed. "I have the opposite problem. If I have an issue with somebody, they're going to know about it."

"Like the time I called the wrong Nature Center for last year's field trip," Lizzy grinned. "_Man_, did you chew me out."

"I'm sorry! I was pissed," she chuckled. "If I don't say what I mean _when_ I mean it, it's just going to curdle up inside me like bad milk."

"Oh, delicious visual, Mags, thank you."

"You're welcome. Kayla, keep your hands to yourself!" she shrieked. Lizzy flinched and nearly spilled her coffee thermos. Maggie turned and smiled at her pleasantly, "So, Jane's staying at your place now?"

"Yeah. I don't want her to be alone," sighed Lizzy. The wind ruffled her hair and she brushed it back into place, moving her bangs out of her eyes. "She insists that she's fine. She looked put-together again this morning, had make-up on and everything."

"Well, that's good!"

"But it's a front. I know Jane. I saw her crying in the bathroom after breakfast. She was just brushing her hair and crying, and I felt like somebody had walked over my grave," Lizzy said miserably. "Have you ever _seen_ Jane cry? It's like seeing a bunny being shot."

"You have to distract her," insisted Maggie.

"I should probably buy something stronger than coffee for the house."

"Yeah, get on that."

* * *

That evening, she decided she would cook for Jane. Toting groceries from her car, Lizzy rested the bag on her hip and tried to find her keys. She had hurled them inside her purse somewhere. "Damn."

"Hi, Lizzy."

Greg Wickham stood on the walkway, his hands in his jean pockets. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Where did you come from?"

"Officially?" Greg grinned. Elizabeth didn't smile back and he cleared his throat. "I parked in the visitor's lot, over on the other side."

"Oh. Well, see you later."

"Wait, Lizzy—" Greg sprinted up and put a hand on her shoulder. "Can I help you with that?"

"No," she glared.

"I came to apologize," he said sincerely, his brown eyes wide. "I _wanted_ to go with you. I'm sure you looked beautiful—"

"I looked awesome, you missed out."

"Fair enough," Greg smiled. "Listen, I wish I had a credible reason, but I don't. And I don't want to lie to you. The truth is that I didn't want to run into—"

"I know," Lizzy said quietly. "I know you didn't want to see him"

"You do? You must think I'm a coward."

She shrugged. "It's your decision what you do or choose not to do. But a little _warning_ would have helped, Greg. It's not all about you."

"I know. I'm an ass. I'm _so_ sorry."

Lizzy gave him the bag of groceries. "I don't forgive you. Not totally. But I forgive you enough to let you carry this inside for me—also because my back kind of hurts, and I can't find my damn keys."

Greg grinned and she hunted inside her purse. Half a minute later, she drew out her house key.

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"So did you wear a dress to the party?" asked Greg.

"Yeah, I did. I looked _good_. A lot of people were all up in this," Lizzy gestured to herself awkwardly, losing the effect because she was bundled up in her coat, beanie and a bright yellow scarf. Greg grinned and she laughed, "OK fine, no they weren't. The truth comes out."

"I'm sure they were. You're a very pretty girl."

"Yeah," Lizzy snorted softly, glancing down at her keys again.

But Greg was looking at her unsmiling, and his hand reached out to touch her cheek. Lizzy glanced up at him. He leaned in closer and tucked a strand of hair over her ear, his eyes lingering on her mouth.

"Stop."

Greg frowned and pulled back. "I'm sorry. I thought…"

"No, I like you, Greg," Elizabeth said quickly. She looked down thoughtfully for a moment, trying to organize her thoughts. "It just doesn't work that way. I mean…you stood me up. And you left a _voicemail_. That was shitty, no matter which way you slice it. You can't just apologize and kiss me and think it's OK. It's not. At least not with me."

"You're right. That was stupid," Greg muttered, staring at his shoes.

"It was."

"Well, let me make it up to you. What are you doing tonight?"

Lizzy blinked. "Cooking dinner for my broken-hearted older sister."

"What's wrong with Jane?" Greg asked.

"She's broken-hearted? She broke up with her boyfriend."

"Oh, bummer. What are you cooking?"

"Um, you're _not_ invited!" Lizzy laughed. "But nice try. …Actually, no, I'm not _that_ vindictive. The truth is that I bought enough groceries for two. I would say it's because I don't want leftovers, but it's mostly because I'm cheap."

Greg raised his eyebrows and she shoved him. He laughed, "What?"

"Not _that_ kind of cheap."

"Don't worry, your reputation is still intact," he said, smiling again. "Can we do a rain check? I'll make you dinner. Maybe this weekend, if you're free."

"I'll think about it," Lizzy said quietly.

"OK. I'll call you."

"OK."

She smiled back at him, but felt like she wasn't necessarily allowed to like men at the present moment—it was an act of betrayal against Jane. The Men are Bastards mentality had to last at _least_ a week after a sister's break-up, or even a best friend's. For supportive reasons, obviously.

When Lizzy finally walked inside her apartment, it was clear that Jane had not remembered when she would be back. She was sitting on the sofa, in her pajamas, numbly watching a _Lifetime_ movie. Wads of used tissues were in her lap. Jane's eyes flickered to the doorway. "Oh. You're back."

"Jane, you went to work today, right?" asked Elizabeth.

"I did," Jane explained. "But then I left early. I didn't feel well."

"…OK," said Lizzy softly. She set down the bag on the kitchen counter and shrugged out of her coat, tossing it over an armchair. "Do you want me to make you some soup? I'll put the kettle on."

"No, that's all right," Jane smiled. "I think I'm just tired. I'm gonna go to bed."

"Are you sure? It's not even eight yet. I was gonna make us some dinner."

"I'm not hungry. But thanks, Lizzy."

Jane got up and cleaned after herself. She threw away the tissues and placed the dirty cups into the dishwasher. Then she walked down the hall and took a right into Charlotte's old room—Charlotte had left her mattress there and Lizzy had laid out new sheets the night before. The door closed behind her.

Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest and sighed. "That can't be good."


	12. The View from the Afternoon

February tapered off into March: wet, cold and miserable. In truth, the blame could not be wholly pinned on the weather. It just so happened that _any_ person, laidback or cheerful, could become a pessimist when rooming with one. Elizabeth's mood plummeted several notches down the ladder.

She had to get Jane out.

"I _have_ to get Jane out," Elizabeth said miserably during lunchtime in the teacher's lounge. Kevin Zimmerman, a fourth grade teacher, looked up from his Caesar salad. "Seriously, Kev. I love her, but this is detrimental to my mental health."

"Is this the sister?" Kevin asked, chewing thoughtfully. "The pretty, heartbroken one who won't split the apartment's rent with you?"

"That's the one," Lizzy sighed, slumping back in her seat. "I mean, I suggested that she sell her own place. It isn't rent-controlled. But then she argues that it's her _home_. And then I argue…_well then, go live in it!_"

"Do you really?" he asked. Lizzy scrunched her nose and Kevin laughed.

"I can't. You don't know Jane. She'll give me this doe-eyed Bambi look and I'll just wither up and _die_."

"Not melodramatic at all," he muttered, capping his iced tea.

"She _does_ go home on the weekends," mumbled Elizabeth, mostly to herself. "You know, to do housework, pay bills, and remind the neighbors that she isn't dead. What she really needs is companionship, and that scares me."

"Why?" Kevin raised an eyebrow. She watched him snap on the plastic lid of his salad bowl, empty now except for a few leaves of spinach. "Companionship's not so bad. We're not programmed to be alone."

"But it's _Jane_. She's always been fine, single or coupled. If Charlie fucked her up…"

"Elizabeth," Kevin said politely. "I don't know this girl, but that's probably all smokescreen. _Nobody_, and I do mean nobody, is fine with being alone. Everybody gets lonely. It's human nature. Life's better with companionship."

Elizabeth narrowed her green eyes at him skeptically, her mouth stretching into a sly smile. She set her fork down. "Well check _you_ out, Mr. Zimmerman. Wisdom for the ages?"

"I do teach the fourth grade," Kevin smirked.

"That's right. I'm three grades behind you."

"Yeah. You need to catch up, squirt."

Lizzy giggled and Kevin grinned at her; he excused himself to throw his trash into the garbage. She watched him quietly and drummed her fingers against her mouth in thought. Kevin Zimmerman was pretty cute. Early thirties, she guessed. Not too tall, but taller than Jane. Curly brown hair, kind brown eyes. He coached Little League baseball—broad shoulders, kind of built. He probably even liked hiking and owned a Golden Retriever.

Wait, Jane hated hiking.

"Do you hike?" Lizzy asked, once Kevin was seated again.

He raised his eyebrows. "Uh, no. Not really. I've always been more of a swimmer."

"…You should date my sister."

"What?" Kevin began to laugh. "Lizzy…"

"You're not married are you?" she leaned in suspiciously on her elbows; her eyes flickered down to the tabletop.

"_No_," Kevin said cautiously. He dropped both hands into his lap.

"Girlfriend?"

"No."

"…Gay? We've had that problem before. Not that it's a _problem_; I'm actually in the market for a gay best friend. You know, Rupert Everett style. Or even Tim Gunn, which would be _awesome_. It's only an issue because Jane dated a guy who came out of the closet during the relationship—"

"_No_," Kevin cut in, laughing. "No, I'm not gay."

Elizabeth flashed him a half-smile and squeezed his hand. "I will _bribe_ you to take my sister on a date." He started and she piped up quickly: "_One_ date! That's all I'm asking for."

Kevin let out a sigh, drawn out and guttural, before he slouched in his seat. "You know, I swore to myself no blind dates this year. Stalkers will do that to you."

"Jane's not a stalker, she's pure starlight and Powerpuff girls. Come on. For me?" Lizzy jutted out her lower lip.

"You look _demented_," Kevin began to laugh.

"Shut up, I'm earnest and cute. Well?"

"_Fine_."

Lizzy cheered and leaped across the table to hug him. Kevin gave in to the embrace, right before she aggressively pushed him away. Two other faculty members were eyeing them across the lounge, by the vending machines. "Judy Thompson," Lizzy explained in a hushed whisper, "office secretary and rumor mill whore."

"_That's_ her?" Kevin said a little too loudly, whirling around. She shushed him. "Didn't she start that one about the lunch lady who stole Barbara Kirkland's pension?"

"Yep."

"_Damn_," Kevin shook his head and slung the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder. "I really miss Meatball Mondays."

"Me too," Elizabeth sighed gloomily.

* * *

Jane wasn't thrilled that her younger sister had gone ahead and set her up on a date. In fact, she was mortified. Lizzy found her camera, just to capture the girl's face: mouth hanging open, blue eyes saucer wide. Jane's hair completed the look. She had let her hair dry naturally out of the shower into a tangled, frizzy strawberry mane that Elizabeth hadn't seen since the seventh grade.

"You really _do_ rely on that flat iron most of the time, don't you?" Elizabeth mused aloud, lowering her camera. "Be careful with that—don't want any heat damage."

Jane jumped out of her seat at the kitchen table. She was relatively numb to the fact that her sister had just taken her photo in such a state. Her voice rose, tight and controlled: "You set…me up…on a _date_."

Lizzy waited a moment, and then gushed, "He's _really_ cute."

"Lizzy, I wouldn't _care_ if you set me up with Mark _Wahlberg_, that's not the problem here—!"

"Um, you would care," Elizabeth politely interjected. "You would pee in your pants."

Jane raised a finger, paused and then exclaimed, "All right, provisions may be made for Marky Mark. But that's _not_ what I'm talking about here! What on _earth_ makes you think I'm ready to date somebody?"

"It's been over a month," her sister pointed out.

"_So?_" Jane crossed her arms defiantly.

Elizabeth whined and bounced on her feet energetically. "Janie, I'm not asking you to exchange _vows_ with the guy. I'm _asking_ you to do your hair, put on some makeup, get that cute butt of yours in a dress and have a Friday night _out_!" She hesitated, "And if you happen to get laid, more happiness to you!"

"Lizzy!"

"Oh come on, how are you _not_ attacking random strangers by now?"

Jane scowled and marched to the kitchen sink. She pushed up the sleeves of her cardigan and got started on a stack of dishes. "_No_. I love you, Lizzy," she said, scrubbing a plate aggressively, "but my answer is no."

Elizabeth cleared her throat and inched slowly towards the hallway, in the direction of her bedroom. "I um…"

Jane looked over her shoulder skeptically. "You what?"

"…I already told him to pick you up tonight at seven. Oh my _God_, what _is_ that?" Lizzy cried, pointing out the kitchen window. Jane half-glanced, only for a second, and it was enough time for her younger sister to race to her bedroom and lock the door shut.

"Elizabeth Bennet, I will _kill_ you!"

"_You don't condone violence!_"

"I will make an exception!"

* * *

The date went terribly. Of course, Lizzy didn't find this out from Jane. According to her sister, she had "a nice time" and Kevin was "the perfect gentleman" and "thanks for intervening, Lizzy." Elizabeth was smug for an entire weekend, and ecstatic when Jane finally told her that she would be going back to her own apartment. But Sunday night changed things. Her father had been there at the time, having driven over to drop off a duffel bag and a suitcase; Lizzy would be leaving for Southern California in three days for Charlotte's wedding.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," crooned John, watching his daughter roll up her pajama pants, flap them out, and roll them again into a more compact cylinder.

Elizabeth smirked at him and brushed the hair out of her eyes. "I'm in no mood to talk about Charlotte right now, Pops."

"Who's talking about Charlotte? You, kiddo. What happened to packing lightly?"

"This_ is_ light."

"Yeah—for a forklift."

Elizabeth huffed and fitfully yanked things out of her bag, sending them flying across the mattress. John chortled but stopped when Jane appeared in the doorway. "I'm making tea. Dad, is peppermint still your favorite? I put cookies out, too."

"That's my girl," John winked. "Be right there."

Jane smiled, switched the basket of laundry she was holding to the other hip, and left towards the kitchen.

"You know, I expected much worse from our phone conversations," said their father slowly. "But Jane seems all right. A little quiet, perhaps, but definitely not the train wreck you painted her out to be."

"Oh ho _ho_," Lizzy straightened and glowered at John. "Just be lucky you weren't here two weeks ago. I had trouble getting her to shower. Hell, I couldn't get that girl out of _bed_ for five days. I told her colleagues that she had mono." A beat, "Which is pretty bad, now that she's back at work. Wendy follows her around with a bottle of Lysol and a pot of boiled water."

"You're making that up!"

"_Well_—"

"You really couldn't get her out of bed?" John asked, stunned.

Lizzy pursed her lips and nodded, her head bent over the suitcase as she wedged in a stack of folded t-shirts. Her hair partially obscured her face and her father brushed it out of the way to see her eyes. "Hey," he murmured. "It hasn't been easy, has it?"

"I'm fine, Dad," said Elizabeth softly.

"I know you are. But Jane's always been your rock."

His daughter said nothing, simply exhaled slowly, looked up at him and smiled. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"The quiet support, as always."

He smiled, green eyes crinkly and warm. "It's always there if you need it."

"I appreciate it."

Her phone began to ring obnoxiously on her dresser. John Bennet breathed a sigh of relief, "Oh, thank goodness. That was getting too sentimental, I thought it would ruin my Cool Dad credentials."

"You wish!" Lizzy laughed, snatching her phone. "Yellow?" she chirped.

"And you _still_ answer the phone that way?" muttered her father incredulously. Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him and he grinned back, mock-saluting her before he left the bedroom.

"_Hi, Elizabeth. It's Kevin, from school_."

"Oh hi, Kev!" Lizzy beamed and leaned back against the drawers. "_Some_body got a rave review on Friday! OK, like two sentences, but they were two _good_ sentences. I'm sure Jane's just dying for you to take her out again—"

"_Lizzy, it was awful. She started crying into her lobster bisque_."

Elizabeth's mouth fell open.

She heard Kevin sigh, and then he laughed nervously: "_I like Jane, I do. It's clear to me why anybody would. She's beautiful, smart and kind. But Lizzy, I have never dated a more depressing girl in my life. She's just so _sad_. It was painful to watch her pretend-smile at my jokes. Brutally, brutally painful. I think you may have rushed this_."

"Shit," Lizzy winced. "When did she start crying?"

"_We started talking about television shows, and she mentioned _Seinfeld_, so I mentioned _Friends_, and I said I liked Chandler Bing, and she said she liked Phoebe Buffay. And then, the tears_."

"Chandler Bing. Bing. _Bing_ley? Damn it, Kevin! That's his last name!"

"_How was I supposed to know that? And do you guys seriously not talk about him?_"

"No, we do not _talk_ about him!"

"_I'm sorry_."

Lizzy pinched the bridge of her nose, paced a little, and then sighed. "There is no way you could have known. And truth be told, that is not normal behavior. Maybe it will take more time. I'm so sorry, Kev. I had no idea; she probably didn't want me to worry. I was really hoping you two would hit it off. You would have been cute!"

She could almost hear Kevin Zimmerman smiling sympathetically through the phone. "_It's fine. At least I won't have to worry about the stalking thing this time around. I doubt she'll call me_."

Elizabeth smirked wanly at his joke. "Yeah, there's that," she said quietly. "Well, thank you, Kevin. I'll see you tomorrow."

"_Bye, Lizzy_. _Take care._"

She waited until after John had left, towards the evening, to confront her sister. They sat out on the front steps of the building, huddled in bundled sweaters and jackets, since they had already stored their winter coats away. "Poor decision, if you ask me," Jane mumbled, hugging her knees to her chest. Beside her, a cup of tea was cooling on the cement step. "March has the trickiest weather."

"Janie, why didn't you tell me how badly things went with Kevin?" asked Lizzy quietly. Her sister looked up at her, wide-eyed and guilty. "He called me. He was worried about you."

"He's a nice guy," Jane murmured, plucking at a thread from her jean pocket. "I'm sorry, Lizzy. I didn't want you feeling sorry for me, or worrying yourself sick. Most of the time, I'm OK. Seriously, I am, when I'm not thinking about Charlie. But… it's too soon for me to see other people right now."

"That's fine," said Elizabeth. She hugged Jane around the shoulders. "I'm sorry if I pushed you."

"I was happy that you did," Jane said. She brushed a windblown strand of blonde hair from her face and smiled up at Lizzy. "I had a nice time, up until conversation lagged and I…burst into tears and made an embarrassing scene at a fancy French bistro."

Lizzy winced and ruffled her hair. "Over a _Friends_ joke, no less."

"What?"

"That's what Kevin said. Chandler Bing—Bingley."

Jane suddenly erupted in giggles. "Is _that_ what he thought? Oh God, no. That's silly. No, it was that restaurant. It looked really familiar to me the entire night; it was driving me crazy. Like the lyric to a song you can't remember? And then, halfway into dinner, I remembered that Charlie had taken me there after one of our dates. We had cappuccinos and he kissed me in the corner booth." She took a sip from her mug of tea, and then rested it against her cheek. "I think it happened because I forgot about it," she murmured. "And then it hit me like a punch in the stomach. I missed him _so_ much."

Lizzy enveloped her in a hug and squeezed tightly. "Sweetie, I'm afraid to leave you this week."

"Don't be," Jane smiled and kissed her cheek. "You've been so good to me while I was a mess. I'm much better. I meant what I said about going back to my apartment. I'll leave in the morning."

"You're sure?"

"I'm positive."

"Love you," Elizabeth murmured.

Jane grinned. "I love you, too."

* * *

Thursday, March 17th surprisingly came as a godsend for Elizabeth, even though she had made up her mind months before to be miserable about Charlotte's wedding. But there was something about airports that thrilled her, no matter the destination. She enjoyed the constant motion, the beat-up luggage and travel bags, the joy of setting off somewhere _new_. In her circumstances, she was very eager to escape Pennsylvania. Constant rain and taking care of Jane had wrung her out.

Her bags were packed and she had dressed nicely but comfortably for the flight. She had her dark hair pulled back with her bangs brushed to the side, and she wore a long gray cardigan, skinny jeans and black flats. Tess and John's luggage was pulling through for her as well—just under forty pounds. "Success!" Lizzy cheered, when she checked in her baggage. The attendant glanced at her suspiciously. "No, you don't understand how much clothes I had to get rid of to meet that limit. Talk about prioritizing."

The flight was delayed by half an hour, which dampened Lizzy's theory of airports being "in constant motion"; luckily, it gave her the chance to return some phone calls. She checked in with Jane, who was at a physical therapy conference in Delaware for the week. Then she left a message on Charlotte's voicemail to let her know what gate she would be at, and then rang up her mother for the standard "I'm alive!" phone call, which was necessary every two to three days.

It was only afterward that Elizabeth brought herself to look at Greg's text:

_I miss you. Have you been busy or are you just avoiding me?_

He had sent it that morning, when she was scrambling to find her wallet. Distracted, Lizzy had shoved the phone into her purse and continued the search for another fifteen minutes before she found the wallet in the refrigerator, next to the grapes. But now that she had time to spare, she didn't quite know what she should tell him. Lizzy bit her lip and finally texted back:_ A bit of both. I'm on my way to California for a wedding. I'll call you when I get back._

Not eager to wait for his response, Elizabeth powered off the phone and tossed it back into her bag. Then she slumped in the bucket seat, her face tipping forward so that her sunglasses slipped off of her head and back into place in front of her eyes. Lizzy laughed at herself and took it half-heartedly as a sign. "Time for some fun; accept no substitutes."

The flight was perfect, given the length of it—no turbulence and no mix ups with kosher and vegan meals. She slept three quarters of it through and watched half of a Tim Allen movie for the rest of it.

Lizzy waited patiently at the terminal for twenty minutes, a little groggy and cold. She hugged her arms and scanned the crowds in front of her for Charlotte's face. She thought she spotted her—a blonde, more waifish Charlotte—but it turned out to be somebody else. "Good," she thought decisively; Lizzy would have hoped that Collins hadn't changed Charlotte _that_ much. Maybe there was still a familiar semblance to her best friend.

And then she saw him, and she felt all the blood in her body pool around her cheeks. Elizabeth's jaw dropped, and she suddenly _hated_ her luck beyond anything in the world. There stood Will Darcy, lawyer and asshole extraordinaire, right beside the massive black and yellow chart of flight departures and arrivals. He was speaking on the phone, his other hand covering his ear.

"God, why are you testing me?" Elizabeth immediately turned her back to him and sought an exit. _Maybe_ if she just slipped by that elderly couple right there, perhaps he wouldn't even notice. He was all the way over there, and he was on the _phone_, no less…

"Elizabeth."

Lizzy froze. _Goddamn_. Slowly, she turned around. Will Darcy was only three or so feet away from her now. She had nearly forgotten what he looked like, but standing here, he seemed familiar as ever. The same unruly dark hair, the intense blue-eyed gaze, the serious mouth settled into a grim line. Lizzy had never seen him dressed down before; or she supposed, as dressed down as Will Darcy could be now, in a pale blue button-down and jeans.

He picked up her abandoned carry-on and slung it over his shoulder. "Let's go to baggage claim. Do you have everything with you from the plane?"

"Who, what, where now?"

Darcy raised his eyebrows and smiled—only a little, a _twinge_, really. But it was still weird. "You couldn't look more surprised. You didn't expect me to pick you up, did you?"

"_No_."

"Check your phone," he said in a monotone.

Warily, Lizzy dug through her bag. She peered up at Darcy through her eyelashes, so suspiciously that he actually snorted and turned away. Then she finally found her phone. And of course, a text from Charlotte: _I just got your voicemail. I'm busy preparing the rehearsal dinner, sweetie. Didn't I tell you that Will Darcy is picking you up?_

"No!" Elizabeth all but shouted at her phone. She sighed gravely and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was so typical; she had been so excited for a getaway. It was only natural that something would have to fuck it up. She didn't enjoy this particular brand of déjà vu, either. It rang a little too closely to that double date with Jane and Charlie an eternity ago. _I should check my texts regularly._

They barely spoke through the terminals and gates they passed, nor at baggage claim. Elizabeth was too busy scowling and Darcy was preoccupied with being indifferent. But then he offered to take her luggage and Lizzy softened. He had her blue Jansport bookbag slung over one shoulder and a duffel bag in his other hand, so she took claim of the black suitcase from the carousel. It suddenly occurred to her to ask Will Darcy what business he had being invited to Bill Collins and Charlotte's wedding. Surely he hadn't picked an acquaintance connection through her?

"Of course not," said Darcy. "My aunt is his godmother."

"His?" Lizzy prompted.

"Bill Collins."

"Oh—_oh_," said Elizabeth, with dawning comprehension. "Oh."

Outside, the air was crisp and fresh, and it surprised Lizzy that it was evening already, though she had very much expected it to be. A shiny, sleek black Audi was parked between two white vans at the curb, its emergency blinkers on; somebody was already inside the car. Darcy opened the trunk and Elizabeth helped him load her luggage in. Their hands touched for a fleeting moment—his were cold—and she pulled back instantly. "Thank you," Lizzy mumbled.

"You're welcome."

She met Richard Fitzwilliam thirty seconds later, after she had climbed into the back and clicked in her seatbelt. He was driving and turned in his seat.

"You're Elizabeth, the lady of the hour! Pleased to meet you, I'm Richard—Will's cousin."

She grinned, "Lizzy."

Richard Fitzwilliam was loud, _extremely_ chipper and he had a watered-down British accent. Lizzy sensed either multinational parents or too many years spent here in Southern California. He was lanky as anything and a little shorter than his cousin, with a crop of messy blond hair and bright, eerily blue eyes.

"Right, I knew that." Richard smiled at her cryptically, "Lizzy, Lizzy, _Lizzy_. I've heard some stories about you."

"Uh-oh. Nothing too terrible, I hope."

"Nothing _too_ terrible," Richard agreed solemnly. Lizzy laughed and he smiled at her reflection through the rearview mirror.

The passenger door slammed and Will settled in, fastening his seat belt with a heavy sigh. "Rich, I told you to let me drive. It's a stick."

"Relax. If we die, we die together."

"The biggest comfort in the world," said Darcy, glancing out the window.

"Will, that was beautiful." He gunned the engine and pulled slowly away from the curb, waiting a minute to slip into the flow of clockwise traffic. They were on the highway five minutes later, and Richard cranked up the satellite radio. "Come on, you guys! Cheer up. We're going to have a hell of a time this weekend."

"Hear hear!" Lizzy declared, laughing.

"It'll be a clusterfuck of a wedding, love," said Richard. "The laughs will be endless."

"That's the toast he's writing for the reception," Darcy told Lizzy.

Elizabeth grinned and leaned close, her elbows resting on either seat. "I like it. Are _you_ writing one, Darcy?"

"Oh, he's got a bit of poetry tucked up his sleeve," Richard winked at his cousin. "Lord Byron, was it?"

"I haven't prepared a toast," said Will very slowly, as if speaking to a toddler. "I'm not…the best public speaker."

"Without _Jägermeister_, you mean," muttered Richard, weaving into the next lane. A Toyota SUV behind him honked and he grimaced and rubbed the stubble on his chin, as if contemplating whether or not he should flip the soccer mom off.

"No, just in general."

"_Really_, Darce?" said Elizabeth conversationally. "I thought you were always pretty skilled at talking out of your ass. You can definitely channel that into a speech. I have confidence in you."

She was testing him, trying to see if things were as tense as they had left it at Netherfield. It was important. She didn't like him by any means, but she was determined to have a good weekend, and perhaps that would only be achievable if she temporarily buried the hatchet.

Elizabeth saw the corner of Darcy's mouth pull up in a fleeting smile, before he shook his head disapprovingly. "Maybe you can help me write it then, with your Kindergarten teacher expertise."

"…Challenge accepted."

"_Darce_," Richard echoed, amused. "That's cute; I might use that."


	13. You Know I'm No Good

It was a little after twelve when Richard pulled into the empty parking lot of Sunset Diner. It seemed old and decrepit; the front sign pulsated neon pink erratically. Darcy stepped out of the car, cautious. Behind him, Elizabeth stretched her legs and shook out her hair from its ponytail. It was starting to drizzle, so she pulled up her hood and squinted into the mist.

"I don't like the look of this place," said Darcy to his cousin.

"I have a switchblade if somebody decides to jump us," Richard assured him. "Oh, and my fierce kung-fu prowess, of course." At that, he raised his fists and snarled.

"See? We'll be fine," Lizzy grinned.

They found a booth inside—it wasn't difficult, because all but two were empty. Darcy slid in first, his blue eyes suspiciously trained on an older bearded man three rows down. Richard sat beside him and snorted, "Jesus, Will, don't _stare_ at him. Drifters can smell fear."

Lizzy covered her mouth with her hand.

Their waitress had smudged eye makeup, electric orange hair and a habit of grunting her words. She slid three menus across the table and Richard thanked her graciously. "You're the best, Nancy! A lovely morning to you."

"Thanks," she muttered. Nancy scribbled their drink orders down (three coffees and three waters) and turned back into the kitchen, feet dragging.

"I don't think she appreciated that. Now she's going to do something to our food," muttered Darcy, opening up his menu.

"Nonsense! I want bacon," Richard said to nobody in particular.

"_Ooh_, me too," said Lizzy. She skimmed over her menu. "And pancakes, and some OJ. Short stack."

"Breakfast?" Darcy asked incredulously, staring at her. "At this hour?"

She met his eye. "Um, it's morning."

"It's midnight," he said.

"OK, it's very _early_ morning, but morning nonetheless." Lizzy paused and narrowed her eyes at him, "Stop _judging_ me, I want pancakes."

"Be my guest," Darcy insisted.

"Well, technically she's the diner's guest," Richard pointed out. Darcy closed his menu and stared his cousin down. He raised his hands, "_What_?"

By her example, the men ordered breakfast as well. Darcy got scrambled eggs and toast; Richard ordered waffles and bacon. It was 12:30am, and they were halfway to the Rosings vineyard in Santa Barbara. Elizabeth slathered butter on her toast and squinted out the window, not able to make much out in the darkness. It was starting to rain.

"Looks like the weather's followed me all the way across the country," Lizzy mused, laughing softly. "_Awesome_."

"It'll clear up by morning," said Richard. "Maybe. I don't actually _live_ here; I wouldn't know. What do you think, Will?"

"I don't live here either," he mumbled.

"Where _do_ you live?" she asked Richard.

"It's a secret," Richard winked.

Darcy rolled his eyes, freeing the napkin coiled around his utensils. "He lives in—"

"_Shh_, I'm trying to intrigue her."

Lizzy shrugged and cut up her pancakes, smiling for a moment. "I'm not _that_ intrigued. I mean, clearly you're from England. When did you move to the states?"

"Seven years ago," said Richard. "My parents are still back there. And Aunt Catherine lives in London. You'll meet her tomorrow—she's a barrel of peaches." Darcy and him exchanged glances, and the latter smirked.

"So are you two first cousins?" asked Lizzy. "Your parents are siblings?"

"My mother was his father's sister," Darcy said quietly.

"Hmm."

Richard took a sip of his coffee. "I hear you've got quite the collection of siblings yourself."

"You heard right," she clicked her tongue. "Charlotte must have told you. Just be grateful they couldn't come this far for the wedding. There's a lot of us."

"So I hear. From Will actually, not Charlotte."

Lizzy looked up, mid-bite. But Darcy was shaking a sugar packet into his coffee cup, his head bent forward. She couldn't see his face.

Richard grinned, "The bride-to-be was unavailable for questioning. I had to pump my cousin for information on the _mysterious_ Elizabeth Bennet."

"Mysterious?" she laughed.

"Notorious, really."

"How so?" Lizzy arched an eyebrow.

"Well, you smashed his car," Richard shrugged. "You're a regular bandit and criminal, according to the legend."

Darcy _did_ glance up then, his mouth open. Elizabeth scoffed and set her fork down, annoyed. "Listen, I didn't smash _his_ car, he—"

"Can I get you anything else?" Their waitress had swung round and she was looking explicitly at Richard now. She even cracked a smile.

"Nancy darling, could I trouble you for one more cup of coffee? I'm driving for another two hours, so I need caffeine." Richard smiled widely at her, and Lizzy could count the rows of pearly whites. He tapped the crook of his elbow, as if the waitress was meant to stick in an IV.

"I'll go get that for you," Nancy said pleasantly.

"Cheers." He waited until she was gone before he elbowed Darcy, laughing theatrically. "_Do something to our food_, he says. That woman's three minutes away from giving me her number! …Not that I really want it, but I _am_ going to this wedding stag, so perhaps it's something to consider."

"Is that _really_ how you're introducing me to people?" Lizzy asked Darcy incredulously, leaning forward in her seat. "That _girl_ who totaled your _car_? Which you know is absolutely false."

Darcy sighed and rolled up his sleeves. "Turn signal—"

"Shut up."

"You're only angry because I'm right."

Lizzy laughed. "Oh wow, I _almost_ missed that arrogance. Almost. Close but no cigar."

"Nobody's listening to me," muttered Richard. He took a bite from Darcy's scrambled eggs; his cousin didn't notice.

"For the record, it's not like I'm skipping around talking about you, or mentioning that we met at the scene of a car accident," Darcy assured her. "Richard happens to be my closest of kin here—I told it to him in passing."

"Among other things," added Richard, waggling his eyebrows. Darcy looked at him quickly and turned away.

Elizabeth slumped back in her seat. "Fine, whatever. I don't care. Richard, you should know that he's not telling you the truth and that _he_ caused the accident, not me."

Richard smirked, bemused. "Will, you _dare_ accuse the lady—?"

"It's subject to interpretation," Darcy interjected hotly. He folded his arms across his chest. "The accident, I mean. Nobody had full blame."

Richard looked at Lizzy. "I wouldn't worry about it, even if your reputation does get tarnished. This is a Collins wedding, after all. Nobody cares what that little twit and his family think."

"True," she cocked her head.

"Word on the street is that his tux is purple," Richard stage whispered. "Shiny, too."

Lizzy scrunched her nose. "Not surprised. I've seen his boxers. They had lightning bolts and checkers on them. They were Bill Cosby boxers."

"_Wait_, excuse me?" Richard's brows pulled together, and his mouth twisted into a disbelieving smirk. "_You_ and Bill Collins…?"

Elizabeth smiled sweetly over the rim of her coffee cup. "Oh yeah. _All night long_."

Darcy hiccoughed into his water and his cousin clapped him on the back. He spent the next fifteen seconds clearing his throat and Lizzy raised her eyebrows, amused.

"Seriously?" laughed Richard.

"No, I'm just fucking with you," Lizzy waved her hand.

"Oh."

"Him and Charlotte, though, _all_ over the apartment. I had to clean up underthings. Lots of underthings. It was gross."

Richard winced and tore off a piece of his waffle, dunking it in maple syrup. "That's a little disgusting."

Darcy was silent again. He sat back in the booth and drank his coffee, quietly staring out the window.

"Are you gonna eat that bacon?" Lizzy asked a few seconds later.

Richard looked down at his plate, half empty now. "N—"

She snatched it quickly. "What?" Lizzy asked, when she saw that Richard was gaping at her. "You said _no_."

He scoffed. "I was going to say 'naturally', as in _naturally_, I would eat that bacon, Lizzy."

"You're so full of shit. You were gonna say 'no'."

"Piranha," Richard mumbled, glaring at her.

"I'm _hungry_." She chewed on the end of the strip.

Darcy was facing forward again, and Lizzy was surprised to notice that he had dimples—or rather, one dimple. He was pressing his lips together, trying to keep from smirking, or smiling or maybe even _laughing_. He rested his chin in his hand and covered his mouth.

Elizabeth leaned forward on her elbows, "Let it _out_, man! Before it gets trapped in your body and tears through your internal organs!"

"Let what out?" Darcy asked.

"That laugh. _A_ laugh. You know, for the longest time I thought you were incapable of smiling, but then I realized that you just try really hard _not_ to," observed Elizabeth. She folded her hands under her chin and smiled at him. She was trying to unnerve him, but Darcy simply stared at her thoughtfully.

"I smile," he said, defensive.

"He doesn't smile." Richard helped himself to Lizzy's leftover pancakes.

"If something is funny, I laugh," Darcy insisted.

"_If you prick us, do we not bleed!_" Richard demanded loudly. "_If you tickle us, do we not laugh!_" He pounded his fists on the table and the silverware clanged. Darcy elbowed him sharply and Lizzy sniggered, smothering her giggles.

"Jesus, the owner's staring at you!" Will sighed angrily.

"He must have liked the performance, then."

Elizabeth was laughing. "You're a Shakespeare enthusiast?"

"Not really, no," Richard said. He reached across to her plate now, finishing the last fourth of her pancake. Then he got up and stretched, rolling his shoulders. "I'll go pop by the men's room. Miles to go before we sleep, and all that."

"Boy must have been a poetry major." Lizzy muttered, stealing some more of his bacon.

"Why is it that I always have to defend myself when you're around?" Darcy suddenly asked.

"Um," Lizzy glanced up, surprised and laughing. "Blame it on the day job, I guess. You're a _lawyer_, Will." A thought occurred to her, and she smiled, "Hey, have you ever argued your way out of a speeding ticket?"

Darcy looked contemplative for a moment, then shook his head. "No."

"Liar."

"I'm not lying. Have you?"

"Yep. Once successful, twice failed."

Darcy smirked. He was fiddling with his fork absently, turning it over again and again. "I'm not going to lie to you, there have been some mild misdemeanors in my past. By affiliation, I mean, I had some crooked friends. Mostly in college. Nothing bad, though."

"Wow, that was so discreet and politically correct of you," Lizzy smirked. She chewed thoughtfully. "I doubt I'm going to get any more information on that one."

"What about you?"

"What _about_ me?" she prompted, setting her fork down.

"It's just…you're…" Darcy winced, and Lizzy enjoyed watching him struggle to put things delicately. "You seem like the sort of girl who would…be more aggressive about things. And maybe get into trouble for it."

Lizzy half-smiled and slumped in her seat. "Yeah. No scraps with the _law_ or anything, but I've never really stood for people giving me shit. Even when I was little. Me and my big mouth."

Darcy chose wisely not to reply to that one.

"I went through a really big _kicking_ phase in elementary school," she mused. "It usually happened at recess, because kids were teasing Jane."

"_Jane_?" Will echoed, his face incredulous. "I would have never guessed."

"Yeah. She was really tall for her age, before everyone caught up with her. The other kids used to call her Skyscraper. She was really sensitive." Lizzy chuckled to herself and shook her head. "So I kicked me some ass! And you know, tore my mother's nerves to shreds, got landed in the principal's office one too many times. My parents were afraid that I had anger issues—_misplaced aggression_, that's what they called it."

"I can't say that I'm surprised. The first time we met, I think you threatened to kick my ass in three different ways," Darcy said dryly, finishing his coffee.

Elizabeth shrugged, unapologetic. "Yeah, well. We didn't exactly hit it off."

"No, I think it was _me_ you were trying to hit."

"Probably."

Darcy said nothing. He was looking down into his coffee cup, absently tracing the rim with his finger. Lizzy decided that she liked how he looked then. It had been a long drive (or maybe even a long day for him); he hadn't taken too much care with his appearance. His sleeves were rolled up, and the top button of his shirt undone. No suit and tie. His dark hair was messier than usual, not neatly combed, and he had slight stubble covering his chin. Lizzy thought that he looked more handsome this way, and she couldn't think why, until she realized it was because he looked more approachable. Less uptight.

"How's your family?" he suddenly asked, and Elizabeth blanched.

"Um…good. Thanks."

"Good," Darcy nodded.

_Jane_ was the unspoken name that hung in the air, though she had said it a minute before and the issue hadn't been addressed. Will looked directly at her and Lizzy glanced away, feeling her cheeks grow warm. She didn't want him to bring up Jane and Charlie. Nothing good could come of that.

Richard was heard before they could see him turning down the aisle; he was whistling the Colonel Bogey March from _The Breakfast Club_, stomping his feet in time. "Did you miss me?" he asked, scooting back into the booth. He unfolded a napkin at the center of the table. "So, Nancy and Kendra gave me a shortcut. We have to—"

"You should ask for the check," interrupted Darcy.

"We pay up front," he sighed impatiently. He tapped the map scratched onto the napkin. "I'm going to take _this_ exit instead, once we're back on 192. What do you think?"

"I don't _live_ here," Darcy muttered. He rubbed his eyes and rested his head in his hand. "Quit dicking around."

"What do you think, Elizabeth?" Richard looked up at her.

"I think it sounds fine," Elizabeth shrugged. "Seriously, just get me someplace warm that has a bed and a shower. I feel so grimy. I'm officially wearing yesterday's eye makeup."

"We can't have that," Richard stood up, shrugging his jacket back on. "Tomorrow's a full day."

"It is?" Lizzy winced, looking up at him. She was still sitting down. In that moment, she was too tired to stand. The six hour flight had finally caught up with her.

"Yes, it's quite brutal. What's the itinerary, Will?" Richard asked, fixing his collar. Darcy looked over his shoulder at him, in the process of unfolding a few bills from his wallet for the tip. He shrugged, noncommittal. "Oh, you're useless. Lizzy, call Charlotte in the morning. She'll get you up to speed with everything."

"OK," Elizabeth yawned, giving him two thumbs up. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

It was a good plan, too, until Lizzy overslept the next morning.

She didn't remember much that happened after the diner. Just Richard losing horribly at a game of Padiddle ("This is a _bullshit_ American driving game!") and Darcy heckling him for it ("How embarrassing, Rich, you're the _driver_—how on earth are you losing?"). She remembered shitty pop tunes on the radio, and she remembered saying hasty goodbyes to the Darcy-Fitzwilliam cousins, who were staying somewhere in the hotel, but she couldn't recall which floor. Lizzy _did_ remember pulling off her jeans and falling face-first into her mattress. It was quite possible that she fell asleep in that position for the entire night.

It wasn't until someone savagely beat their fists against her door that Lizzy gasped and jolted upright in bed. Sunshine was streaming in through the translucent curtains and she winced and covered her eyes. She wiped the line of drool on her chin a second later. "Oh, that's sexy." The knocking continued and Lizzy scrambled up, twisting the sheets around her body so she wouldn't answer the door in a tank top and panties. "I'm coming! Jesus."

Charlotte was on the other side of the threshold. She was tapping her foot angrily. "Well, at least you answer your _door_!"

"It's nice to see you too," Elizabeth mumbled groggily. The shorter girl sighed and pushed past her, and Lizzy nearly stumbled from the intrusion. "Yes, of _course_ you can come in!" she said sarcastically, swinging the door shut behind her. "Make yourself comfortable. I know I have."

"Elizabeth, I've been calling you all morning," said Charlotte, sitting on the edge of her mattress. "We're meeting at the Rosings vineyard in three hours with the photographer first for the wedding shots. I still need to finalize the band; we had a last minute switcharoo. Then to Bentley Hall for the reception. I leave for hair and makeup in 30 minutes. Do you need an appointment? I'm sure Shandra could fit you in—she's an expensive stylist friend of Mrs. de Bourgh's. I mentioned Catherine before, I think, she's Bill's godmother."

Lizzy's brows knit together and she opened her mouth, staring at her friend for a long stretch of seconds. "I'm sorry. You just said _so_ many words, and I only understood like five of them, and not even in the right order."

"Why don't you go wash up and talk to me in a couple minutes?" Charlotte said, slowly and patiently, as if she were speaking to a child. Lizzy obediently trudged into the bathroom. Her best friend answered texts while the faucet ran, and Lizzy walked out a few minutes later, fresh-faced and running her fingers through her hair.

"_Whoa_," she froze, squinting at Charlotte. "You look pretty. I didn't have my contacts in earlier."

"Oh, thanks," Charlotte smiled sheepishly. She had blonde highlights now, and blunt bangs that stopped right before her eyes. Somebody had also wrestled her out of her favorite paisley hippie dresses and t-shirts; she wore a smart black pantsuit now, with a pinstriped scarf.

"I feel like you just walked out of a J. Crew catalog," Lizzy smirked, lifting her suitcase and propping it up on the bed. She carefully unhooked the garment bag that had her dress inside. "You look nice!" she said quickly, when she saw Charlotte smoothing her suit jacket self-consciously. "I mean, I've known you since college, Char. We lived in sweatpants together."

"True." Charlotte sighed heavily and rounded her shoulders. She watched Lizzy unpack in silence, watched her unwind her phone charger and plug it into the wall. Lizzy apologized for the missed phone calls. Her cell phone's battery had died overnight. "Listen, it's not important. Guess what? I'm getting married today."

"You're getting married today," Lizzy echoed, smiling. "Are you OK?" she asked gently, touching her friend's shoulder.

"Yeah. _Yes_. Definitely, yeah," Charlotte nodded enthusiastically. She breathed in deeply and laughed. "I think I have butterflies in my stomach."

"I'm no expert, but I hear that's what usually happens."

"Mm," she nodded, folding her hands in her lap. "You're not mad at me, are you? I meant to pick you up at the airport last night, cross my heart. But Bill called me, panicking because of that band situation. My hands were tied."

"I understand," said Lizzy. She sat back on the bed now and crossed her legs. "OK, I was massively pissed off when I thought I would be stuck with Will Darcy for who knew how many hours. But Richard was a pleasant surprise. Loud, British, charming, ri_dic_ulous guy. I think we're best friends now."

"I had a hunch that you would like him!" Charlotte laughed, brushing her hair behind her ears.

"Well, how could you not?" Lizzy grinned. She shook her head and chuckled.

"You know, you should go easy on Darcy. He's been here all week and he's been pretty supportive about all this wedding business," said Charlotte. "He's always on hand for a last minute errand, and he's like…surprisingly docile about it all. He _offered_ to pick you up from the airport!" her mouth curled up into a grin. "Richard did too, but I suggested that Will go because he knows what you look like."

Elizabeth raised both eyebrows. "I don't know, Charlotte. The man looked _pained_ last night."

"Well, he might have volunteered to get away from his aunt. You'll meet her at the wedding. Aunt Catherine's kind of difficult to deal with."

"Oh, now she's _your_ aunt, too?" Lizzy teased, nudging her.

"Nearly everybody calls her Aunt Catherine. _Collins_ does. It's what you call women who are terrified of aging," Charlotte said dryly. "They become everybody's frigid aunt."

"Shit, the things I hear about this woman. I would be worried, but I don't think I care enough."

"Well, you wouldn't be Lizzy if you did," Charlotte pointed out with a dreary sigh. She swung her legs to the side of the bed and got up, pausing to drop a kiss onto her best friend's forehead. "I'm so happy you're here," she said, and her smile wavered tearfully.

"Don't cry. You're gonna make _me_ cry," Lizzy begged her. "Pinky promise."

Charlotte laughed and pinky-promised her. She brushed away a couple of tears from her lashline and Lizzy looked down at her hands, trying to be unemotional. "How's Jane?" Charlotte asked. "I should have asked sooner."

"No, it's fine," Elizabeth told her, half-shrugging. "She's in Newark for the conference. She sends her deepest apologies."

"Oh, I got all _seven_ of those apologies on my voicemail," Charlotte chuckled and patted her pocket, where Lizzy assumed her cell phone was. "I love Jane, but even if she had come, I don't think it would have been good for her emotional well-being."

Lizzy grudgingly agreed, though she didn't know if Jane would have been that affected at a wedding as stiff and romance-starved as the one that would play out that day. She smiled a supportive smile anyway and wrapped her arms around Charlotte's shoulders, hugging her tightly. "Knock 'em dead today."

"Will do."

* * *

The wedding was beautiful. Elizabeth didn't feel much of an emotional tug from it, at least not from the groom's end. But she took comfort from the little things. The plush, rolling green landscape framed against the late afternoon sunshine. The lines and lines of curling green vines and purple grapes. The cool scent of the breeze, the way the air smelled right before a rainstorm. The light picking out the red highlights in Charlotte's pinned-up curls. Her father's tear-stricken face as he gave her away. Her best friend's pretty, worried face beneath a sheer white veil.

Lizzy's heart twisted for her, and she couldn't ignore what she didn't like. Bill Collins' tuxedo, for instance, which wasn't shiny like Richard predicted, but was a bizarre shade of royal purple—she didn't like it. She didn't like that Mariah Lucas could not make it to her own little sister's wedding (despite the fact that said wedding came with the guarantee of a prenup). She didn't like that Jane wasn't there to be her emotional buffer. She didn't like the inappropriate whispering during the ceremony, and the priest's nasal-pitched voice. She didn't like the icy stare of an older woman across the path, who wore a large brimmed hat piled high with fake, dark flowers.

It was Catherine de Bourgh, and she would have the absolute pleasure of meeting her at the reception that evening.

Lizzy was Charlotte's one and only bridesmaid, and she held her bouquet for her dutifully while the vows were read. Will Darcy stood a few feet across from her, and she looked at him when she didn't feel like staring at the bride and groom any longer. There he was, long-limbed and handsome in a black suit, his hair windblown as he stared across the vineyard. Darcy had a pensive, vacant expression on his face and Lizzy smirked, suspecting that he wasn't even paying attention. Then again, neither was she.

The ceremony ended on a somber note that Lizzy couldn't shake. Secretly, she had a small hope that Charlotte would come to her senses and sprint down the aisle in the other direction, clutching her white skirts in her hands like_ Runaway Bride_. She would have vouched for her. She would have made every excuse in the book.

But it never happened, and Lizzy decided to forget about it and have as much champagne as possible at the reception.

"Attagirl!" Richard clinked his glass with hers. They sat at their table in Bentley Hall, a small ritzy estate an hour away from the hotel. Lizzy spotted Charlotte across the room. Her veil was gone and Lizzy could see the design on the strapless ivory bodice of her gown now. Her arm was threaded through Collins', her face patient and happy as they chatted with one of his work colleagues.

Lizzy sighed gravely and sipped her champagne. "I hope he makes her happy. Is that so much to ask for?"

"Surprisingly, yes," Richard half-smiled. "It's something we _aspire_ for, not something that is guaranteed. All in the chase, love."

"Mm," Elizabeth murmured in agreement, tilting her head. "Speaking of chasing, that girl in the red dress has been eyeballing you since you sat down next to me. Are you gonna get on that or should I pull some introductions?"

"Oh, she'll come to me," Richard grinned. "Though it's funny that you mention introductions. Aunt Catherine bothered me about an hour ago about meeting you. Charlotte's infamous best friend—up you go!"

"Do I _have_ to?" Lizzy sneered.

"Yes."

"I'm not dressed to impress," she laughed at her own joke.

"You look very pretty, my friend."

Lizzy smiled in thanks. She was wearing a simple black sleeveless cocktail dress, but it was very fitted and feminine. Her hair was twisted delicately into a chignon, with loose curls framing her face.

Richard led her grudgingly to the intimate little inner circle by the staircase. Charlotte beamed immediately, thrilled to see her, and Bill nodded tersely. "Aunt Cathy," said Richard slowly, "I'd like you to meet Elizabeth Bennet, Charlotte's best friend from Philadelphia."

"Ah," said Catherine with dawning comprehension, and Lizzy picked up on the crisp British accent. Catherine de Bourgh was a polished woman in her mid-sixties with bright blue eyes and crows feet, in a crotchety black and white tweed suit—Lizzy guessed Chanel. "I hear interesting things about you, Eliza," she told her. "You teach at a public school, yes?"

"Call me Lizzy," she said politely, lacing her hands in front of her. "And yeah, I do. Pleased to meet you, Mrs. de Bourgh."

"Yes," she said coolly. "It's a shame that you can't find a private institution. I have a friend in Massachusetts who teaches at a new charter school—lovely, lovely facility."

Darcy cleared his throat, quietly, not to seek attention. But Lizzy picked up on his presence anyway: still and quiet, staring into his glass of champagne. He met her eye briefly, glancing down at her dress; then he looked away.

"This is my daughter, Anne," Catherine announced. She turned to the small, timid dark-haired girl at her side. Lizzy hadn't even noticed her before. Anne de Bourgh was painfully shy and pale, and looked all of sixteen, though she was probably a whole decade older. She reminded her a little of Mary. She wore a long-sleeved dress and avoided eye contact.

Bill laughed nervously and plucked at his bow-tie. "Aunt Catherine, Charlotte and I took your suggestion for the new florist. We went with the freesia motif. What do you think? I think it has a wistful, old romantic style to—"

"I hate freesias," said Catherine stiffly. Lizzy snorted, and she turned a sharp, withering eye to her. "How old are you?" she asked Lizzy, who balked at the sheer bluntness of the question.

Richard was laughing silently, and Lizzy only knew so because his shoulders were shaking. He covered his mouth with his hand.

"Old enough to teach public school kindergarten apparently," Elizabeth replied, draining the last of her champagne. "Old enough to ditch you guys to go dance. Richard, wanna go for a spin?"

"Surely!" he grinned.

"Charlotte, Bill," Lizzy giggled a bit, nodding in time. "Catherine, Mr. Lucas, …Darcy. Have a good evening!"

Catherine watched her go with her eyebrows delicately arched. She turned to her nephew, "William, you _know_ that girl?"

"I do," Darcy said, and a smile crept up his mouth.

* * *

Two hours later and Elizabeth felt sufficiently tipsy enough to not care about much anymore. Richard had temporarily ditched her for good ol' Red Dress to dance to a Billy Idol song. Lizzy couldn't dance anymore. Her feet hurt and her heels were…well, they were _some_where. She turned on her perch on the staircase, searching for them, and promptly gave up.

She spotted Will Darcy across the room, dancing with his cousin, Anne. It wasn't working out too well. Anne kept stepping on his left foot. Elizabeth wanted to snap a photo of his frustrated, agonizingly patient face.

"Lizzy?" Richard returned, arm-in-arm with Red Dress, who turned out to be somebody else's date. "This is Nadine. She's an actress. She's Jack Maynard's date."

"Jack Maynard?"

"Bill's accountant," cooed Nadine, tugging at one of her blonde ringlets.

"How _wonderful_ for you!" Lizzy grinned, leaning forward to aggressively shake her hand. "You're really, really pretty. Are those real?"

"She's a little drunk," Richard chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck. Nadine made a disgruntled noise and turned back to the dance floor, her heels clicking on the tile. Richard groaned and sank down to sit beside her. "Thanks a lot."

"Cockblocked," Lizzy sniggered, covering her mouth with both hands. She giggled some more.

Richard stared at her and his eyebrows rose. He began to laugh, "Jesus, Lizzy. How much did you have to drink?"

"Quite a bit. I'm feeling emotionally unstable tonight."

"Let's go dance some more."

"Can't!" Lizzy shook her head violently and hugged her knees to her chest. "_Won't_."

"Oh come on. If _Will_ can, you can," Richard encouraged, dropping an arm around her shoulders supportively.

"Please don't shame me like that," Elizabeth made a face. She looked out across the dance floor and found him again. He wasn't with Anne anymore; he was talking to the double-bassist of the band. He shook his hand and smiled. Lizzy sat up straight, puzzled. "Darcy just _smiled_."

"He does that, you know," Richard said dryly, taking away her champagne glass. "I'll finish this for you."

"He doesn't," Lizzy insisted, shaking her head. "Man, I _hate_ that guy."

"No you don't," Richard laughed.

"I do!" Lizzy slurred a little, then laughed at herself. "_Seriously_."

"Seriously? You don't," Richard said, calmly searching her face. "I was there at the diner last night, remember? I've never seen two people who like to argue with each other more. I felt like I was interrupting something, and nothing romantic was even happening."

"I don't _enjoy_ arguing with him—!" Lizzy practically squeaked, flailing her arms.

"Easy does it," Richard grinned, steadying her shoulders.

"I enjoy pissing him off a little bit," Elizabeth admitted guiltily. "It's just fun. I hate him a bit. But some people are just fun to provoke. I don't know why I'm telling you this. I'm a terrible human being."

"You're a little drunk."

"I'm a little drunk," Lizzy agreed.

"The most refreshing honesty comes from drunkards," Richard shared, straightening the lapels of his jacket dutifully. "In my experience, anyway, if that counts for something. I could just be full of shit."

"Yeah," she murmured, resting her chin in her hand. Lizzy sighed sleepily, "Yeah, you really could be."

"Listen," Richard said, nudging his knee into hers. "Will's a good guy. Will's a _really_ good guy—one of the best people I know, and I usually hate my family. He's not what he seems. He's—"

"—a special and unique snowflake?" Lizzy guessed playfully.

"Shut _up_," Richard laughed, ruffling her hair. "I'm being serious. He's got a good heart. He is _fiercely_ loyal to those he loves. Take a bullet, lift a train, be Superman for the those he cares for. You name it."

"What does that have to do with me?" Elizabeth mumbled, smoothing her dress.

Richard smiled gently and looked straight ahead again, before shaking his head. "Lizzy, just take it to heart. He's not like anybody else. He's not like other guys."

"Duly noted, _Capitan_."

"You're such an arse," he rubbed his eyes, chuckling. "You believe me, right?"

"Not really," sighed Lizzy. "Maybe. I don't know. I know him and I don't know him. I just know how I think I know him. You know?"

"No."

"Me neither," Elizabeth winced. She rested her forehead against her hand. "But he seems like a good friend. To you…and to Charlie, to be honest. When he was here. Well, back home. Netherfield."

"You met Charlie Bingley?" asked Richard slowly. "When he came to Philadelphia?"

"Mm-hmm. He was in the car with Darcy when we crashed," explained Lizzy. "Darcy was an asshole. But Charlie was just _nice_. So, _so_ nice. I don't get it. I don't understand what happened."

Richard frowned thoughtfully. "Darcy's been _anything_ but an asshole to Charlie, Lizzy. He'd do anything for that guy; that's his best friend."

"Yeah, so I hear," Elizabeth muttered darkly.

"He helped him dodge a bullet a few months back," Richard told her. "Some girl, near his B&B in Philadelphia. Blonde—Charlie likes blondes. He was serious and she wasn't. Darcy convinced him to leave before it blew up in his face. He saw _right_ through her. How many friends have your back like that? How many of your friends give a shit?"

He thought he had made his point clearly. After all, Lizzy Bennet was looking at him so _seriously_ now, her brow furrowed and her mouth gaping open. "When was this?" she asked quietly.

"Not sure…maybe a couple months ago."

"Oh."

"Listen, darling. I'm going to go try again with Red Dress," said Richard. He kissed her hand and smiled. "Take care of yourself. Remember what I said. I may send Will over to look after you, in case you hit the alcohol too hard again."

"Right," Elizabeth said, distractedly drumming her fingers against her mouth. She was frowning, and she looked up a little too late. "Wait, what?" But Richard had already gone, and Lizzy had sat there mulling over his words for too long.

Darcy convinced Charlie to leave. Darcy…convinced Charlie to _leave_.

"I need another one," Lizzy muttered, getting up to pour herself some more champagne. She succeeded too, and drained another glass before Darcy found her staring intently at the screen of her phone twenty minutes later at her table. She was rereading a text message from Jane, her brow creased in concentration. Her thumb hovered hesitantly above the green 'call' button, and she bit her lip.

"Who are you calling at eleven o'clock at night?" Darcy asked, sitting in the chair next to her.

Elizabeth looked up, surprised. "_You_," she said harshly.

"Me."

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Me too," Darcy said quietly, and he looked up at her intently. His face registered surprise then, and he blinked, "Are you…? How much did you drink?"

"Not a little," Lizzy sighed. "I have a headache."

"Let me take you back to the hotel," Darcy offered.

"_No_," she snapped. "I'm fine. You're just…you should just _leave_. Leave me alone. Charlotte will take me back."

"Elizabeth, Charlotte and Collins already left for their honeymoon two hours ago," Will said slowly. She hated him for it. She hated him for lots of things. "They even said goodbye to you. You and Charlotte hugged for what had to be fifteen minutes."

"Oh, right. After the… bouquet was tossed. _Shit!_" Elizabeth muttered, cradling her head in her hands. "Richard will drive me back."

"Richard left with that girl."

"Red Dress? Oh, that _bastard_."

"Come on," Darcy got up and took her hand. "Let me take you back to the hotel."

"OK," Lizzy said meekly. "_Oof!_" she swerved on her heel and nearly knocked into a centerpiece. "Fuck. Fucking centerpieces. Nobody _needs_ a vase of lemons on the table. Lemons, not flowers. What _is_ that?" she demanded. "Darcy, nobody cares about fruit!"

"Careful!" Will laughed, steadying her with his arm around her waist. "You must be a lightweight."

"Shut up."

"I take your hostility as a 'yes'" Darcy said dryly. "Don't let go of my hand—I mean it. Follow me."


	14. Delicate

They took a taxi back to the hotel, with Lizzy whining in the backseat the entire time ("Can we please stop _moving_? Stop _moving_!"). Darcy gently led her into the lobby. Then into the elevator, where she slipped on the threshold and began laughing hysterically when he caught her and swore under his breath. Then to the thirteenth floor, where Darcy asked Lizzy politely for her key because she was too incompetent to slide the card into the door herself.

"Stay _right_ there," Darcy commanded firmly, turning his back to her for a moment. He swiped the card and the light flickered green. "Elizabeth?" he asked, whirling around.

She was halfway down the corridor, beating her fists onto one of the doors. "Let me _in_, Charlotte! You _always_ lock me out! You selfish whore!"

"No, no, no, _no_, that isn't your room!"

By the time they got in, Lizzy seemed to completely forget that he was there. She breezed past him, kicked off her heels and fell into her bed. Face first, too, much like the night before. Will lingered hesitantly at the door. Then she mumbled, "Hey, bring me a trashcan from the bathroom. I may or may not puke right now."

He obeyed.

By the time Darcy came back (with both a waste basket and a bottle of water from the minibar), Lizzy had fallen asleep. She was curled up into the fetal position, her knees drawn toward her chest, her arms hugging a pillow. Darcy half-smiled and shook his head, quietly dropping the waste basket in front of her nightstand. He pulled the covers up to her shoulders.

* * *

Elizabeth woke up four hours later with a headache. She sat up in bed very slowly. _Water_. There was a bottle on her nightstand—she chugged it down. Vaguely, Lizzy remembered that there was Advil in her toiletry bag in the bathroom. She looked down at her legs, pale and bare. She had fallen asleep in her dress. Her hair was long, tangled and knotty now. Dozens of bobby pins were on the dresser, next to her purse.

Lizzy turned her head toward the balcony window. It was still dark out, and the curtains seemed ominous and billowing in the shadows. But one of the lamps on the nightstands had been left on, and she squinted against its glow. Then she froze.

Will Darcy was sleeping on the other side of the bed, on top of the duvet. His dress shirt was wrinkled, and his tie was gone. Lizzy's shoulders slumped when she remembered that he had taken her back to the hotel. _That was so…nice.  
_

She cupped her hands against her forehead. She had the sudden, overwhelming impulse to kick him so that he rolled out of bed. A couple punches would probably suffice, too. _Jane_. Jane! He had hurt Jane _so_ much! He was an asshole! He…

…had stayed with her the entire night to make sure that she was OK. Lizzy snuck a glance at him. Darcy slept on his back, with one arm draped across his face. She couldn't imagine why he had left the light on, until she figured that he had probably never intended to fall asleep in the first place. The remote control rested on the bedspread between them both. She sighed irritably.

Lizzy reached across the bedside table for her cell phone. Then she put it down. Then she flopped back down on her pillow. Then she sat right back up.

_I'm going to kick him!_  
_It's 4:27AM, you're not going to kick anyone._  
_I hate him._  
_He stayed with you to make sure you didn't asphyxiate in your own vomit._

"Oh, that's a gorgeous visual," she mumbled quietly, trailing her fingers through the knots in her hair. Darcy stirred. Lizzy lied back down slowly; she couldn't resist looking at him again.

She saw most of his profile now, except for his eyes. The straight nose, his mouth, his jawline, his Adam's apple, the curve of his neck. His chest rose and fell slowly—essentially the only indication that he was sleeping. Occasionally, his right foot would twitch. Elizabeth's mouth quirked up in a smile, before she stopped herself.

_Fuck it._ _One more hour of sleep, two Advils, and I will sort this out._

Sitting up once again, Lizzy sighed and reached over him to turn off the light. Her torso twisted awkwardly above his, and she bit her lip. Her fingers just barely grazed the switch under the lampshade, and she craned her neck even further. "Damn."

Darcy stirred again, and his arm moved. Elizabeth stopped moving, with her arm oddly suspended in the air. Will blinked up at her groggily, and his voice was thick with sleep. "Hey."

"Hi." She felt her cheeks grow hot and momentarily wondered how red she was. "I was just…you left the light on."

"Oh," Darcy murmured. "'Kay."

"Yeah," Lizzy whispered.

They would analyze what happened next for _days_—because neither of them seemed to move. Elizabeth stared down at him with her hand finally lingering on the light switch. Darcy looked up at her in complete silence. And then wordlessly, he propped himself up on his elbow and kissed her.

She forgot to breathe.

The kiss was unexpected. His mouth was soft against hers, and his thumb swept over the plane of her cheekbone.

Elizabeth couldn't think straight. She felt Darcy's fingers thread through her hair. His other hand slipped under the hem of her dress, warm against her bare skin. Tense before, Lizzy slowly melted into him now. Her arm dropped from the lamp. She gripped the fabric of his shirt in fistfuls, leaning close to kiss him back.

It escalated into something more intense; they shifted so that Elizabeth was on her back, her arms around his neck. Darcy hovered above her for a moment, uncertain. Then he bent low and kissed her again. Lizzy felt a wave of heat spread through her limbs and wondered if he could hear her heart beating erratically against her ribcage. She wondered why she was suddenly self-conscious about _that_, of all things. She ran her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, her lips fumbling heatedly against his.

It suddenly occurred to her to push him off.

But then Darcy kissed her and his touch and the _smell_ of him—coherent thoughts had ceased to form in her brain. She just knew that he tasted faintly like champagne and smelled _wonderful_ and his hand was on her bra clasp. His lips moved across her jaw, her neck, the base of her throat. Fingers clung to shirts and tangled through hair with a kind of pent-up desperation. Lizzy could hear the blood pounding in her ears.

His shirt came off and she traced her hands over the lean muscles of his arms, her breath hitching. They shifted over then, mid-kiss, and her elbow pressed against something cold and solid.

She only realized it was the remote when the blaring noises of an infomercial filled the room; some woman was selling little antique teacups on QVC.

That did it.

They both froze, their faces inches apart. And then everything was awful. Completely, utterly, painfully awful.

"Shit."

It was him who swore. Lizzy pushed away and scooted back into the headboard. She hugged her knees against her chest and tried to catch her breath.

Darcy looked disoriented. His hair was unkempt and ruffled now. His shirt was also missing. Had she done that? _Of course I did that, I was all _over_ that._

"Oh _no_." Elizabeth buried her face in her hands. _Mistake. Big mistake. _She found that she couldn't even look at him, and instead took the remote and turned the TV off. It was uncomfortably quiet again.

"I…" Darcy faltered. He said nothing more. Silently, Darcy picked his shirt up off of the floor and slipped it back on, clumsily doing the buttons. Then he sat down on the edge of the mattress. Lizzy stared at him; he stared back. The air between them was charged and static. And the lamp on the bedstand still flickered on.

Panicked, Elizabeth leaped off of the bed and got her purse from the bureau.

Will's breath caught in alarm. "Wait. Wait!" He got up quickly and stopped her, taking her hand in his. "Don't go," he said. "We should talk. I know…well, actually I don't know…that was really fast, I'm sorry. I didn't expect that to happen. I wasn't—" Darcy closed his mouth. His blue eyes searched hers imploringly.

Elizabeth blinked furiously, fighting back tears. Her breath came in shallow bursts, and she wouldn't look at him. She had never felt more confused in her entire life. He was still holding her hand.

"Lizzy," Darcy said softly.

She stared up at him. He had never called her Lizzy before. He was looking at her intently now, his mouth slightly open and vulnerable. He looked boyish—he looked as lost as she felt.

"I have to go," Elizabeth said shakily, sidestepping him.

"I want to be with you," Darcy suddenly admitted.

Lizzy froze. She turned around very slowly. "Beg your pardon?"

"You're so…I've never met anybody like you, Elizabeth. It scares me half to death, to be honest. But I've liked you since we met. I mean," his voice grew quiet, "of _course_ I like you."

She frowned, speechless.

"Trust me, it's not exactly an ideal situation," Darcy mumbled hastily, misinterpreting her expression. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. "It's definitely not rational. You're not my type. I'm not even sure I _have_ a type, but you're just… Your parents are kind of absurd, too. Well, your mother is. But I don't care about that stuff right now." His eyes met hers for a brief moment, the bluest blue she had ever seen. "I can't stop thinking about you. I want to be with you…I…"

He looked too anxious to finish his sentence. Several different emotions flitted across Elizabeth Bennet's face now. Her cheeks were tinged pink and her mouth gaped open, kind of like a fish's mouth might. "What? Wait…_what?_"

Darcy frowned at her. "Which part needs repeating?"

She looked up at Will Darcy, incredulous. "_How_ can you—" Lizzy started, then abruptly stopped. She laughed and shook her head. "I'm sorry, give me a minute here."

Darcy watched her quietly.

A full minute passed before she spoke up, taking a deep breath in beforehand to calm herself down. "OK. Let's do this. Number one, thank you for the compliment. …I guess. It's nice to know you're attracted to me despite the fact that I'm not _ideal_ and my family is unsuitable or some other bullshit like that." Her mouth twisted into an ironic smile. "I'm flattered."

Darcy's expression changed. "Hold on—"

"Number two," Lizzy wiggled two fingers in his face, "I respectfully refuse your offer." Her voice grew soft and she hugged her arms close to her body. "I have no interest in being with you. I'm sorry that you assumed I would. And I'm sorry if I'm hurting your feelings right now—I had no intention of doing so."

Darcy gauged her reaction suspiciously, puzzled more than anything else. He cleared his throat. "Do you have a _reason_ behind—?"

"I have _several_. I just don't feel like arguing with you, all right?" Lizzy said sharply. "That is an uphill battle I'm just not prepared to deal with. For god's sake, it's nearly five in the morning. But don't worry, I'm sure the objections you have against me will make me easy to get over. You'll move on soon enough."

Will smiled for the barest of moments, but it disappeared quickly. "Wait. Wait, you're serious."

"Yeah, and I need aspirin," Lizzy winced, cupping a hand to her forehead. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then glanced around the room. Everything was a mess. His blazer tossed over the armchair. Her heels kicked off at the foot of the bed. The tangled sheets and the duvet. "_Why_ did I let you stay with me?" she muttered to herself incredulously.

"Because you were pretty drunk. And because maybe you want this, too," he said simply.

"I _don't_!" she insisted desperately. "I mean yes, you do have your rare redeeming moments, I'm a big enough person to acknowledge that. It surprised me. But Darcy, when push comes to shove, I can't _stand_ you."

Darcy's face registered shock. Then he crossed his arms defiantly. "_Not_ that convincing, given what just happened back there. You kissed me back. If it weren't for that TV, we would _probably_ be—"

"If you finish that sentence, I will maim you." Lizzy's face flushed scarlet. "We got carried away. It happens! I got really drunk at a party sophomore year of college and I almost made out with a sofa cushion. No, I _did_ make out with a sofa cushion. I was tipsy. And you smelled nice. Really, really nice."

"I don't believe this," Will muttered, rubbing the side of his face. "Did you try to undress the sofa cushion as well?"

"Probably, I was pretty easy in college."

"_Elizabeth_."

"What do you _want_ from me?" she whined, actually stomping her foot. "I said _no_. Please don't make me open this can of worms, I am fucking _exhausted_."

"But you're seriously rejecting me right now?"

"Yes, I'm _seriously_ rejecting you right now. Heaven forbid. Is this the first time?" Lizzy mock-gasped.

"Tell me why."

"Fine! _Fine_, you know what? I will. Darcy, I couldn't possibly be with somebody as conceited and manipulative as you," she admitted. He bristled and Lizzy remained strong, fixing him with a level stare. "You're so goddamn arrogant. I knew it the moment we met. And your friends? Well. If those you love happen to disagree with you, you make their decisions for them anyway. You're controlling and proud and_ I don't like you_."

"I'm controlling, I'm suddenly _manipulative_?"

"Yes, you manipulate situations to get what you want."

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about _Jane_," Lizzy said icily.

Darcy closed his mouth, taken aback. He hesitated for a moment. "You know."

She looked at him reproachfully. "At least you're not denying it. Very big of you." Lizzy's lip trembled and she shook her head. "And yeah, I realize maybe you didn't start it. I could spot Caroline Bingley's fingerprints on this from a mile away. But you sure as hell didn't _stop_ her from separating them! You _encouraged_ it. How the hell does a person do that, Will? Your own best friend!"

He stared at her critically. "Because I agreed with Caroline for once. I needed to be honest with Charlie. It seemed clear to me that Jane didn't feel as strongly for him as he did for her."

"Oh, I see. And you're some sort of scholar on judging the level of attachment in any given couple? Do people hire you for your expertise?"

Darcy rolled his eyes. "Charlie's judgment was impaired and I acted as _any_ good friend would—"

"He's not a child!"

"I did it for his own good!" Darcy insisted angrily. "Do you know how many times I've sat on the sidelines watching girls break his heart? Charlie, the everlasting romantic chasing after _the one_. There was only so much abuse I could see him take over the years. Even if they _had_ stayed together, it would've ended up being drawn out and _painful_. I didn't want him to go through that."

"Um, that wasn't _your_ decision to make!"

"He asked me for my opinion, Elizabeth. That was my opinion. Jane would've broken his heart. She was detached. She pushed him away. It was even clearer to me after they had been separated."

"Hey dickhead, Jane was_ in love_ with him!" Lizzy cried, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. "What right do you have to make that kind of assumption? What the fuck do _you_ know? Congratulations, Will. He broke _her_ heart instead; that's _so_ much better, isn't it?"

Will pressed his lips together, quiet now.

"God, you never give _anybody_ a chance!" Elizabeth blinked back angry tears. "Jane's _guarded_; she didn't want to freak Charlie out. Jane keeps her feelings hidden because she's afraid of getting hurt," her voice grew quiet. "Much good that did."

Darcy regarded her slowly. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said after a minute, his voice low. "I truly am. But you have to understand my reasoning here. You would have done the same, had you been in my position."

"I would have done the same? I would have done the same," Lizzy scoffed. "Don't presume that you _know_ me, OK? God, I _hate_ that about you. You think that you know _everything_."

"I do know you."

He said it with such certainty, too. Neither spoke for several seconds.

"Anything else?" Will asked sarcastically. He was flushed now, scowling and hurt. She hated that she noticed. She hated that she cared.

"Yes, actually, there is. There is something else."

"Well, by all means, you're on a roll tonight, aren't you? Let's hear it."

"Oh, you will! I had my doubts about you, especially in light of what I've heard from Richard. But there's one person who's had your character pegged from the beginning. I want to hear your bullshit excuse for the way you treated Greg Wickham."

Darcy laughed abruptly. "Really. Greg Wickham. Greg _Wickham_? This is the conversation we're having right now?"

"He told me what you did to him. You took away what was rightfully his. You ruined his future."

"Oh, did I?_ I_ ruined his future," Will retorted, taking a step forward. "Nice to know that you have your facts straight, Elizabeth. Maybe you and I would have gotten along better if I had been more like him, right? A smooth-talking, cheating liar? The guy's an _asshole_." Lizzy opened her mouth to argue and Darcy shook his head, "It's funny, I expected you to know better. You're too bright for that."

"Fuck you. Don't patronize me."

"Well, you're _blind_."

"You expect me to believe _you_, then?"

"When have I lied to you?" Darcy demanded, searching her face. Lizzy couldn't quite take the intensity of his gaze. She felt a blushing heat creep up her neck and through her cheeks and she looked down. At that moment, she hated him. Elizabeth hated him and felt so much more than that. Everything she felt about Will Darcy was tangled into a knot, and she couldn't discern one emotion from the next.

"Lizzy," Darcy tried again, his voice quiet this time. She felt his hands close loosely around her wrists. She closed her eyes.

"I think you should leave," Lizzy said softly.

"Fine."

She stared at the floor while he got his things together, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. She tried to keep herself from shaking. Darcy shrugged on his jacket and got his cell phone and wallet from the nightstand. He paused in front of the door, shoulders squared and tense. Lizzy couldn't bring herself to look at his face. She felt sick.

"I hope you have a safe trip home," Will said quietly.

The door slammed shut behind him.

Once he was gone, Lizzy relaxed her shoulders and exhaled properly. She slid down the wall until she sat cross-legged on the floor, jaded. A few minutes passed before she realized that she was crying, _had_ been crying since he left. At which point Lizzy got up silently and walked barefoot to the bathroom to wash her face.


	15. God Knows You're Lonely Souls

Sleeping seemed nonsensical now—she couldn't if she tried. Lizzy watched the sunrise from the balcony, with her bare legs propped up on the ledge. It was cool outside, and she wrapped her sweater tightly against her body every time the wind whipped around and sent chills up her arms. She peered over the railing; the streets below were pretty empty. It was only seven o'clock. Checkout was in three hours.

Behind her, the luggage stood neatly by the door. Everything inside was impeccably folded and packed, and the black dress was back inside its garment bag. The bed had even been made. Time had never dragged slower.

Lizzy ran her fingers through her hair, occasionally pulling out a forgotten bobby pin from the night before. Her mouth quirked up in a smile. How distant Charlotte's wedding seemed now. The newlyweds had most likely landed in Italy hours ago. She closed her eyes for a moment, reflective, but then Will Darcy's face sprang to mind—hurt, angry blue eyes.

She opened her eyes and touched her mouth with her fingertips.

It was useless trying _not_ to think about him. The night played like a film reel in her mind no matter what she did, in bursts and flashes that made her chest constrict. Lizzy rested her head on the back of the chair and stared miserably at the cloudless blue sky. It was going to be a beautiful day out.

Richard came to see her an hour and a half later, when she was standing over the sink, washing up. She let him in, her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth, and marched back into the bathroom. He leaned against the door frame and smiled impishly, wearing the same green dress shirt from last night. It was wrinkled now. Lizzy smirked at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. She spit and rinsed her mouth. "You're such a slut."

"Thank you," he said, shameless.

"Hand me that towel?"

Richard obliged, tugging a violet towel from the shower door behind him. Lizzy took it from him and caught his eye through the mirror's reflection. She stared at him. "What?"

"What's this look you've got going on?" Richard asked, giving her a brief once-over. He grinned and she rolled her eyes. "_Hobo chic_, is it?"

"Shut up. I packed away everything else," Elizabeth murmured defensively, turning back to look at herself in the mirror.

She hadn't even been thinking about her appearance. After Darcy left, she changed out of the black cocktail dress as quickly as possible, partially because it was getting to be uncomfortable but also because she could still smell him on her clothes, and she was frightened that she liked it. But now Lizzy wandered around in a t-shirt, a long gray cardigan, boxer shorts and woolly socks. Her long dark hair was messy with curls. It was her standard homebody look.

Richard was laughing at her and she eyed him sharply. He raised his hands, "Hey listen, I'm not one to talk. I'm in last night's clothes."

"Yeah, seriously!" Lizzy eyed him sharply, and then let herself smile. "How was Red Dress?"

He shrugged, smirking. "I don't kiss and tell."

"Oh, OK," she snorted.

"But she was rubbish."

Lizzy began to laugh and shook her head. She caught him staring intently at her through the bathroom mirror. "You all right?"

Richard was smiling at her, as he often did, but something was weighing him down. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "I didn't _just_ get here, you know. I drove back around six. Parked the car. Took the stairs to my room." Richard hesitated, "Fine, I won't lie, I took the lift."

"Not judging you," she promised, turning around.

"I didn't think Will would be up by then," Richard went on, gauging her reaction carefully, "but I'm obnoxious enough to try anyway, and I did. He _was_ up, of course. Hadn't slept a wink all night. But then again… I don't think you have either."

Her smile disappeared. Lizzy said nothing and turned back around, unzipping her bag aggressively. She tossed in the travel-sized shampoo and conditioner, and moved onto the tissues. "I slept fine," she said breezily.

"_Lizzy_," Richard tutted.

"Yeah?"

"Lizzy, look at me."

"I'm busy."

"Would you stop? C'mon. Turn around."

"_No_."

Richard chuckled and stepped forward, putting his hand over hers. Lizzy dropped her shoulders and sighed. He looked serious now, and both corners of his mouth tugged down into a grimace. She was annoyed to find the expression very familiar—he was Will's cousin, after all. "I won't talk about it if you don't want me to," Richard promised.

"I don't want you to," answered Elizabeth.

He chewed on his bottom lip. "But I will say this—"

"_Richard_."

"No, no, hear me out! Will is _really_ cut up about this," Richard explained. "He's a little mental, I realize that. But…I've never seen him act like this. At least not over a girl. Excuse me, a _woman_. And I would totally give him grief about it if I hadn't met you first." Lizzy glanced up at him and Richard smiled, "But I _have_ met you, and you're…well, you're perfect for him. There's something about you two."

"No, there's _not_."

"_Yes_, there is," he said patiently.

"Did he put you up to this?" Elizabeth demanded. She narrowed her eyes skeptically, "Did he ask you to come talk to me?"

"God no," Richard shuddered. "You don't know him at all, do you? He'd punch my lights out if he knew I was here. And he's pretty strong, too. I know he's a bit on the wiry, slim side. But looks can be deceiving; I learned that the hard way."

Lizzy turned back toward the sink. She glanced at her reflection and hooked her hair behind her ears. "Listen, it's more complicated than you think it is."

She heard him sigh behind her. "You should have told me about your sister. I didn't know."

"I don't regret keeping my mouth shut. You wouldn't have told me what happened otherwise, right?" Lizzy looked sternly at him from over her shoulder.

He frowned apologetically. "Probably not."

Elizabeth shrugged and muttered, "It's not like it's your fault."

"But I am sorry that it happened this way. And Lizzy, I'm sure he regrets it. I know it's not my place to say," Richard said calmly, "but people _do_ make mistakes. You know as well as I do that he's not perfect."

Elizabeth snorted and crossed her arms over her chest again. She looked at him for awhile. He was defending Darcy, and she was dead set against his reasoning. But Lizzy had to admit that she liked Richard all the more for his loyalty. He had a good heart.

"So why are you here?" she asked quietly. "To convince me that I _belong_ with him or some other bullshit like that?"

"No, actually," Richard said. "Well, maybe. But there's this, too." He reached into the inside of his suit jacket and removed a white envelope. "The guy went and wrote you a letter." Lizzy opened her mouth but no words came out. Richard half smiled and dropped the envelope onto the counter. "Don't make that face. Will was an English major before law school. And _yes_, I tease him all the time."

"I'm surprised, that's all." Lizzy stared at the envelope. Her name was written on it, just _Lizzy_ in penmanship that was a lot tidier and more elegant than hers was. "I don't want to read it. Please take it back with you, Rich."

"Nope," Richard clasped his hands behind his back and took two steps backward. "It's out of my control now. You have no choice but to read it."

"Fine, then I'll just trash it."

"No, you won't," he smiled slyly at her. "I'm going to leave and you're going to _stare_ at it for ten minutes, and then curiosity will get the better of you. But because you're fucking stubborn as anything, I expect you to toss it first. Then there will be subsequent garbage-digging immediately after. In this, I have complete and total confidence."

Lizzy glowered at him, "I hate you."

"You _love_ me," Richard insisted, grinning. "Read it. Please."

She sighed and hugged her arms. "Fine."

"Thank you."

Lizzy chewed on her lower lip and leaned against the counter. "So where is Darcy anyway?"

"He left," said Richard, hopping up to sit on the countertop, his long legs dangling off the edge. "A couple of hours ago. He told me that he had to head back early because of a case he has to overlook on Monday morning, but I'm completely positive that he had other reasons." At this, he met her eye. "He was going to deliver that letter himself, but I stopped him. I said that it was too early and you were sleeping."

"Even though I wasn't," Elizabeth muttered, rubbing her elbow.

"Yeah well, you probably wouldn't have opened the door for him."

"That's probably true."

Richard sighed and leaned forward so that his elbows rested on his knees. "Lizzy, Will is in love with you," he said softly. Elizabeth started and glanced up at him sharply, expecting his usual shit-eating grin. But Richard looked stone cold serious and her stomach clenched anxiously in response. "And what's more," Richard went on, "is that he _respects_ you. There are very few people in this world that he respects. I just want you to know that."

Lizzy was shaking her head firmly. "Rich, there's _so_ much you don't know about."

"I know," he sighed. "I know, _I know_. There's a ton of shit to wade through, and you both have some _serious_ issues. Like, _personality_ issues, because you're both dominant and stubborn and Jesus, hearing you guys argue about radio stations kind of makes me want to stab myself in the eye." Richard paused to beam up at her. "But what can I say, I'm a closeted romantic and I'm still pulling for you two."

"Well, _don't_," Elizabeth said crisply. "I can't stand the guy, OK? I _hate_ him, and I _hate_ what he's done. And whatever he's feeling was probably extinguished last night, so let's all just move on."

"You don't hate him," Richard repeated. "And I seriously doubt that."

"I _do_, and you shouldn't," Lizzy glowered at him, "because I'm right."

"You're not," shrugged Richard.

"Yeah, I am."

"No, you're not."

"I _am_."

Richard grinned and hopped off of the counter and onto his feet in one fluid jump. "You know what they say. Denial is a river in Eg—"

"Blow it up your ass!" Lizzy snapped crankily. Richard raised his eyebrows and snickered and Lizzy held out for a few seconds before she began to laugh with him. "Shut up," she murmured, smiling despite herself. "You're pissing me off."

"I know, I'm really good at that," Richard assured her brightly, straightening the lapels on his blazer. He finger-combed his hair in the mirror and winked at her. "I best be going then. But it was an absolute pleasure to meet you, Lizzy," he smiled, "and I hope I see you again soon."

Elizabeth stood up on her tiptoes to hug him. "Me too."

* * *

It happened on the flight back, too. She had managed not to think about Will Darcy for a handful of hours, mostly because she had been too preoccupied with checking out, calling a taxi, checking in her suitcase, finding the right terminal, getting some coffee, getting some _more_ coffee, digging out her boarding pass from the bottom of her purse, and finally stepping onto the plane. But the moment she rested her head against the window and closed her eyes, it hit her again.

His face, slack-jawed and hurt, and bright blue eyes.

"Motherfucker."

The man sitting beside her bristled, but Lizzy wasn't looking at him.

She was staring at the envelope tucked into the seat pocket right in front of her. Lizzy swallowed hard. Hesitating at first, she snatched it quickly and then tore the flap open. "Let's get this over with," she mumbled to herself. She unfolded the letter (two sheets of paper folded in three places) and took in the rows and rows of small, precise handwriting scribbled on the hotel stationary. Lizzy braced herself and began reading:

_Dear Elizabeth,_

_I guess if you're reading this, then I have Richard to thank for persuading you to do so. But you don't have to worry. I'm not going to renew my sentiments and repeat myself. This isn't some desperate love letter. I just think it's fair to you (and quite frankly, to myself) to address the things that you accused me of, to protect my motives but also to clear things up. There are some things that you just don't understand._

Lizzy rolled her eyes but continued on.

_Charlie and Jane—this warrants explanation. These are two people we see as our best friends, and we're both fiercely protective of them, which is only natural. You were right, I didn't suggest that Charlie break up with your sister. But I did encourage the idea because I believed that she was passive and that he was the more committed of the two. I agreed with Caroline. I thought I saw Charlie getting his heart broken in the future because he's followed this pattern at least half a dozen times before. I didn't make the decision for him, but he does value my opinion a lot; I know I influenced him. And I know it seems to you that I acted like some vindictive asshole out to get your sister or prevent her from being happy. But I was just trying to protect my friend, and I didn't anticipate the pain that would come at both ends._

_Or your pain, for that matter._

She read over that line again and chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully.

_The other issue is Greg Wickham. Maybe I should have seen this coming. I don't know how close you are or what he's told you, but he's been lying and this doesn't surprise me. You just have to have faith in what I'm saying; I've known him since we were kids. If you don't, then I'm sorry. But I don't care. You need to know the truth as it is._

_We grew up together as boys in Bridgeport. His mother nannied me and my sister throughout our childhood, so she usually brought Greg around the house to play with us. We were really close. Georgie was too small to join in the games for a couple of years, but we really did go everywhere together. My mom wasn't in the picture, and Dad traveled a lot—the three of us were very close. Almost inseparable._

_Everything changed when Greg and I graduated high school and moved onto college. I went to school in New York, and he moved to Philadelphia. I'm not going to pretend that I tripped over myself to keep in touch, but neither did he. The friendship just naturally weakened over time. Things work like that sometimes. I'm not the best at keeping touch, but in this case I often think about what would happen if I did, or whether things could have turned out differently._

_He dropped out of Drexel by the middle of sophomore year. Georgie told me over the phone but didn't say more about it. Four years went, and I graduated and took an internship in Manhattan at a firm of a family friend's. I wanted some experience before law school. I was really stressed out and busy, and every time I called home I got the same report from my sister: "Everything is fine." But my dad had a heart condition and hadn't worked for the last year and a half. And I know Georgie better than she knows herself; the quieter she gets, the more she has to hide. I took a week off in September and flew back home._

_My dad had undergone heart surgery while I was away in New York during the summer, and nobody had let me know. It hadn't gone well. He passed away a couple months later. By then, I learned that Greg was back in town, and had been living in our house for the last month that I wasn't there. He didn't have a job and Georgie begged me to let him stay there. I wasn't happy. I wasn't happy with anything. We hadn't spoken for several years and I felt that he had taken advantage of my father's hospitality while he was ill. And then Georgie told me that they had gotten really close and that they were in love.  
_

_There was a huge fight, and Wickham and I said some horrible things to each other. I accused him of butting in just to take advantage of my family's generosity after all these years. I called him out for just using us. And he accused me of being jealous because he had been there for Dad when I wasn't. To make things short, I told him that I would pay him as much as he wanted if he left town and didn't return. He accepted right away. Georgie was devastated._

Elizabeth folded the letter quickly and set it down. She looked out the window, at miles and miles of dusky blue sky and felt her stomach lurch unpleasantly. She opened the letter again and read more.

_Then last year, I was in New York, and Georgie had left home to attend JMU. I saw her during winter break a lot, but I couldn't make it home for the spring. Greg Wickham did—he returned to Bridgeport for the week she was home. I didn't know, but they had been emailing each other behind my back for a year and a half before that. Georgie told me that they were just friends now and that we had to forgive each other. But of course Wickham wasn't interested in that. I was furious. I told him to leave. He told me that he didn't have the money I had paid him, that he had lost it all. He didn't say how. He demanded that I pay him more, because he had 'done so much for my family' you see. I refused and drove him out, and I hadn't seen him again until I ran into you both at the bookstore that night. I didn't even know that he was living outside Philadelphia, but he had gone to school close by. I just hadn't expected it. I was shocked and angry and disappointed.  
_

The next two words were scratched out in black ink. Lizzy stared at the line before, shell-shocked. She couldn't shake the feeling that "_disappointed he was with you_" was the unwritten fragment. _  
_

_So, now you know. That's all I really wanted. I'm not going to make a bigger idiot out of myself and talk about last night. You made yourself pretty clear, and you obviously want to forget about it. I made a mistake and I was presumptuous and for that, I'm sorry for the way things turned out. But what happened happened, and I guess that's just the way it is. Just know that I wish you the best.  
_

_Take care,_

_Will  
_

Lizzy read two magazines after that. She got three-quarters through an issue of _Entertainment Weekly_, then three pages of _Vogue_ without really reading a single word or taking in a single picture. His words reran themselves through her mind and she gave up and _had_ to read his letter three more times, from start to finish. By the third time, her mouth was dry and she felt mildly sick. She was flushed and she rested her palms flatly against her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut, feeling too much at once. "Shit…_shit_."

* * *

Jane was ecstatic to see her and demanded pictures from the wedding. She had none, and no proper explanation to give for their absence. Instead, she dawdled in the kitchen, her suitcase still in hand, and contemplated the truth:

"I didn't take any photos. I was too depressed in the vineyard when Charlotte didn't make a run for it. I couldn't at the reception either, because I got drunk with Richard Fitzwilliam and met his pretentious aunt. Plus, the ballroom was ugly. The band was only decent. And then I got even more drunk. Will Darcy took me home…he was there, did I mention? Yeah. We almost had sex. He's a really good kisser. Then we had a fight about you and Charlie and Greg Dickham. …Sorry, _Wick_ham. But how are you doing? Your hair looks gorgeous."

Jane regarded her in silence, and her mouth settled into a frown. "Sweetie, you look terrible. Bad flight?"

"Yeah," Lizzy piped up, running a hand through her hair with a heavy sigh. "Bad, bad flight. I'll tell you about the wedding later. I just want to shower and go to bed, OK? You can still stick around though. Order pizza."

"OK," Jane murmured softly. Her strawberry blonde hair was down, framing her face in delicate waves. She wore a pale pink sweater and looked almost too effortlessly pretty then, and it broke Lizzy's heart all over again.

"Tell me about Delaware in a couple of hours," she half-smiled. "Wake me up when the pizza gets here."

"You got it," her sister smiled and pulled her in for a hug. "Welcome back, honey."

Lizzy closed her eyes and pressed her nose against Jane's shoulder.


	16. No Alarms and No Surprises

Lydia Bennet drove like a maniac.

If they were on a more congested street, Elizabeth would have been gripping her seat belt until the whites of her knuckles shone. But as it were, they were zipping past on a highway just lightly speckled with cars, in her '97 tan Corolla that would only give them trouble if it started to rain. Sugar Ray was playing on the radio, and Elizabeth rested her head back against the seat and relished the feeling of the wind whipping through her hair. It was April; she had waited for this weather long enough.

"_I just wanna fly_, chicka yeah, _put your arms around me, baby_."

The last twenty-four hours were a blur.

Well, actually the past thirty _days_ had been a blur. Mostly of the same thing, in one long consistent boring stream of late nights spent staring at her computer screen, of correcting papers and making lesson plans, of pretending to enthusiastically help Jane redecorate her apartment. Maggie King's birthday party was jammed in there somewhere—maybe the 26th of March, something like that. She didn't remember it very well.

March consisted of crowding her plate with so many useless, filler activities that Lizzy no longer had _time_ to think and regret and feel awful about herself, but simply surge forward. Keeping busy was a comfort.

Jane had started to worry, because she knew her too well.

"Why don't I ever see you anymore? We live ten minutes away from each other," she told her disapprovingly. They were grocery shopping at the time, and Lizzy lifted her gaze from the label of Ragu pasta sauce she was holding. "My god, our quality time is shopping for _produce_? Really?"

"I think it's kind of sweet—like we were roomies again or something," Elizabeth smiled, tossing a box of noodles into the cart. "Bennet scores 10 points."

"You're so _busy_ lately."

"And that's bad?"

"You're trying to distract yourself from something," Jane said plainly. "And you're not telling me what it is. You do this when something bad happens. You close off. This happened after Steven."

"Hey, that's ridiculous. I'm just _busy_," Lizzy breezed past her. "I'm allowed to be busy, aren't I?" She rolled the cart on and cocked her head toward the freezer section. "You want ice cream?"

Jane pursed her lips and followed behind her sister silently. It was as close to prying as she was going to get, and Lizzy had to maneuver around that familiar knot of guilt in her stomach.

It wasn't just Jane that she avoided.

Greg tried to get in touch with her a week later. He buzzed at her apartment complex at eleven o'clock at night, when she was in bed watching a recorded episode of _Conan_ with a bowl of soup. Irritated, Lizzy had pulled her hair back into a ponytail and searched through the mess of her closet for a hoodie to shrug over her pajamas. She met him outside of the lobby, and immediately hated that stupid, endearing grin on his face.

"You've forgotten _all_ about me, haven't you?" Greg's mouth curled into a slow smile. "Cute pajamas, by the way."

"Greg, it's really late. Stop stalking me."

The smile disappeared from his face instantly. "I'm not _stalking_ you," he laughed shortly, trying to bring forgotten levity back to their conversation. "A couple of unreturned phone calls and a visit? I thought it was called persistence. I like you."

She ignored his last comment and lifted her chin defiantly. "Not an hour before midnight, Greg, then it's just _annoying_," Lizzy muttered, shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket. "What's up?"

Greg's brown eyes darted quickly to hers and then down at his shoes. Her attitude was stripping him of his confidence, and his voice wavered, "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine."

"Wanna go grab a bite to eat or something?"

"No, thanks. I'm actually halfway through a bowl of chicken noodle upstairs. Canned, so none for you," Lizzy smiled quickly, but it didn't touch her eyes. "Rain check?"

"Um, sure. Yeah. OK."

"Bye, Greg."

Lizzy's bright green eyes had finally met his for the first time in the conversation, and nothing was necessarily masked from him anymore; there it was rolled out for him to see, cold unbridled disapproval. The tension in her jaw, the icy distrust in her eyes and the downward curl of her bottom lip. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides. Something had obviously changed.

Greg turned to walk back to his car but hesitated on the balls of his feet. "Well," his voice was low and suspicious, "call me if you feel like it."

_I won't be_, she had thought crisply, bolting up the stairs once his car pulled out of the lot.

Lydia's voice suddenly brought her back to present time. She was singing along to the radio and cranking up the volume, and paused to flash her older sister an award-winning smile. "Girl, don't you bitch me out about my music selection again. It is what it is, and this is _my_ car."

"Your car needs gas," Elizabeth said dryly, smirking at the fuel gage; the needle teetered on "E".

Lydia propped her large, square sunglasses up over her hair in disbelief and squinted at her dashboard. "Fuck."

Elizabeth started to giggle.

If you would have told her twenty-four hours ago that she would be whipping down the interstate with her bratty, narcissistic and _least_ favorite sister for an impromptu road trip, she would have thrown her head back, laughed in your face and insulted your intelligence. But as it were, Lydia Bennet's presence on her stoop during yesterday's lazy afternoon was sort of a blessing in disguise.

Lizzy had had _no_ patience for it at the time, of course.

She had just returned from work with a dried coffee stain on her blouse from that morning, and her hair was starting to frizz in the humidity. And she hadn't even _recognized_ Lydia at first, whom she had not seen since last July when she dragged her tattooed, monosyllabic boyfriend to the annual family picnic and their mother had a screaming fit about him but assumed that nobody else could hear them just because they were in the veranda—but they could. _Obviously_.

"Not one of Ma's brightest moments."

But it was April 2011 now and the girl had gone and shorn off her hair into this piecey, platinum blonde look. Her dark roots were showing and she wore a ton of black eyeliner and this indecisive, cute little nose stud that Elizabeth suggested she take out before visiting their parents. Lydia pulled it off though—she had attitude. And chunky hipster sweaters and denim cut-offs and black combat boots. She hadn't expected any less. Lydia went to art school in Philadelphia.

Well, she _had_.

The whole reason she was in Longbourn County, grinning innocently up at her sister to begin with, was because she had dropped out and was too chickenshit to spill the beans (those agonizingly overpriced college tuition beans) to the folks.

"So, I propose a plan," Lydia had told her, clinking a glass of lemonade against hers in her apartment kitchen. "My friend Lucy's boyfriend Nathan has a gig in the city tomorrow night. Let's drive down, have a fabulous night, get a little shitty, meet some wonderful people, drive back, and then break the news to Mom and Dad."

"The news that you've just wasted $45,000 worth of tuition money and no longer have a concrete path in life?" Lizzy had nodded her head lightly, pouring coffee beans into the grinder. "Hmm. Yeah honey, that'll earn you a proper shitstorm."

"Exactly!" declared Lydia desperately. "So let's do it. As my older sister, you're pretty much obligated to show me a good time before I'm slaughtered. It's your civic responsibility."

"Ask Jane."

"Too straight-laced."

Lizzy gave her a withering look over the coffee machine. She couldn't really argue, though.

She should have said 'no'. It was forming since the beginning of the conversation, just at the tip of the tongue, ready to be used at a particularly heavy pause. It didn't really matter that Lydia's eyes were saucer wide, or that her lower lip was jutting out puppy dog style. Elizabeth's reasoning was selfish, and she didn't care. This was Lydia, and Lydia wouldn't pry into her business, nor her emotions. Lydia would distract her and be _fun_, and the last month had been anything but that. And Lydia would have gone down to New York City by herself _anyway_, so why not act as her guardian and prevent her from being kidnapped in the process?

So here she was. At some gas station in New Jersey, sitting on the hood of the car and watching through lowered shades as the sun dipped low and the colors bled out of the horizon. Lydia beamed at her brightly and Lizzy grinned back and wasn't annoyed that Lydia hadn't bothered to ask her a single question about her life in the past ten months; it wasn't that Lydia didn't care. She just never thought to ask. Which was perfectly fine by her.

Lydia eventually did break that silence. Somewhere off the turnpike, too, when the sky was beginning to turn into a dusky, grey-purple shade. "You're not seeing anybody, are you?"

Elizabeth didn't take her eyes off the road. "No," she said airily. "Are you?"

"Nope. Free as a bird."

"If you're a bird, I'm a bird," Lizzy said wistfully, smiling crookedly at her sister.

Lydia smirked. "All right, Ryan Gosling. We need to get you some ass tonight. It's been too long. You haven't been with anybody since Steven, right?"

Lizzy shook her head 'no'. She pressed her lips together resolutely. "Just a few dates here and there, but nothing really stuck. Lyddie, I'm not really looking right now."

"You should be. You're pretty and young and I'm making you wear heels tonight. Nab you a man at a… grungy, underground rock gig in the middle of Manhattan."

"Doesn't sound shady at all," Elizabeth deadpanned, hugging her jacket around her shoulders.

Lydia snorted softly, crawling to a stop in front of the red light of the intersection. She fished in her pocket for a pack of Marlboros, pulled out a cigarette and fit it smoothly between her lips. Lizzy watched her snap her lighter to life, watched the end of the cigarette glow orange.

She arched a brow. "I thought you quit."

"I did. I've just relapsed since I dropped college—_all that stress_, you know." Lydia drew in a mouthful of smoke and smiled. Her green eyes found Lizzy's. "I eagerly await your lecture, maestro."

"Oh, that's not my style," drawled Lizzy. "Your life, your choices."

Lydia put one hand on the wheel and used the other to tilt the carton towards Elizabeth. "Want a smoke?" When Lizzy shook her head, Lydia smirked, "I'll ask you again after tonight. You may feel differently."

"Please, I have a little self-control."

Her face reddened. She could have said the same thing a few months ago and gotten away with it—but from where she stood now, Lizzy felt like some foolish, reckless teenager. Not for taking off with Lydia, no questions asked and no whereabouts mentioned, but for what had happened back in California. For what she thought about late at night with her hands folded behind her head, staring up at the ceiling. For what made her stomach churn like a washing machine and made her replay scenes from old arguments behind her eyelids.

_When have I lied to you?_

Will fuckin' Darcy.

As if he hadn't done enough.

On particularly quiet nights, drifting somewhere between sleep and consciousness, Lizzy faintly recalled lips lingering at the sensitive groove between her ear and neck—remembered hands interweaving and fingertips mapping out skin. At which point she would sit upright in bed, the back of her neck damp with sweat, and try to ignore the dull ache in her chest that was partly guilt and very much of something else.

"You know what, I will take that cigarette."

* * *

The club was loud. Really, _really_ loud. It smelled like sweat and too much alcohol and there were girls in glittery tank tops shouting and giggling and bouncers trying to contain the crowd. The back of Lizzy's hand had been stamped with a neon green, fluorescent logo, and she stared at it in fascination, trying to remember the last time she had been _anywhere_ you had to get a stamp for readmission.

All she knew was that the opening gig was by some band called Turbo Fruits, the beat was decent and her second Corona was starting to kick in and blur the edges of her focus. Lydia was dancing beside her, swinging her hips low as some boy on stage in tight leather pants put his mouth against the microphone and crooned about jilted lovers and some other vaguely familiar bullshit. He sang "baby" a lot and she didn't particularly give a damn what the rest of his garbled words were. Lizzy's eyes fell shut and she raised her arms above her head, moving her hips in rhythm to the bass line.

It felt nice to let go.

Lydia's friend Lucy's boyfriend Nathan's band took the stage after the first set. Nathan played an acoustic, his eyes completely concealed by the brim of his Yankees cap. Another boy, Gabe, plucked on the strings of his bass guitar with long gingers. He was a lean, dark-haired ginger boy who smiled a lot. Front in center stage stood a staggeringly pretty girl with long, jet black hair, a shy smile and pale blue eyes. She wore a red beanie, torn jeans and had an acoustic guitar slung over her chest as she leaned forward and spoke against the microphone. "Thank you all for coming out tonight. I can't tell you how much we appreciate it. Special thanks to Nikki, our publicity whore. All those fliers and radio slots, man."

Across the room, someone let out a lewd, drunken scream and the room acknowledged her with laughter and applause.

The girl grinned and wiped her brow with the back of her hand. It was getting too hot. "OK well, the first song is a cover. It's an oldie. Please appreciate your roots."

"Introduce us, G," encouraged the other guitarist, bumping her shoulder with a laugh.

"Oh!" A blush spread across her cheeks and she pressed her hand against her jaw, chuckling low through her embarrassment. "Wow, my bad. I'm Georgie. This is Shoshanna, Gabe and Nathan. We are tentatively Peaches and the Chemist and _no_, we're not sure if the name will stick. But please enjoy."

Applause filled the room once again, then simmered and replaced itself with the languid, heady twang of her guitar. And as the girl sang in her smooth, smokey lilt about summertime and easy living and rich daddies and cotton, Lizzy suddenly felt happier and more relaxed than she had been in _months_. Her hand found Lydia's by her side and she held it tightly. Her youngest sister's mouth spread into a wide, eager smile and she squeezed back.


	17. Collision: Part I

Somewhere between her second beer and that sickening, unexpected whirl of emotion in the pit of her stomach, Elizabeth felt the overwhelming need to burst out of the club. Peaches and the Chemist had finished their set neatly, and some white clean-cut suburban rapper had clambered on stage, filling the venue with his crappy electro-beats. Lydia probably hadn't even heard her when she leaned in and shouted in her ear that she needed air, that she would be back in five minutes.

She'd figure it out—she was a bright girl.

Lizzy sat on the street curb now, hugging her knees to her chest. It had been stiflingly hot in there, and tendrils of her hair still clung to the back of her neck. But outside, the air was cool and crisp, and she watched the goose bumps rise on her forearms. _Jacket. I should have brought along a jacket_.

Tears stung the corners of her eyes and Elizabeth squeezed them shut and tried to take in a slow, controlled breath. She gathered her long dark hair and tossed it over one shoulder, so that the breeze would cool her neck and shoulder blades. Her breath came in soft shudders.

She felt sick and hot and _weepy_ and the worst part was that she couldn't pinpoint the catalyst for this sudden freak-out. One minute Lizzy had been dancing, utterly carefree, and the next moment...

The bouncers behind her were talking, laughing at some joke and bumming cigarettes off of each other. She could still hear the beat and the bass line from the next song, and wondered if Lydia was still where she left her, or if she had migrated towards the bar. Or worse, a _boy_ at the bar.

Responsible. She had to be responsible and head back inside.

Sniffling, Lizzy dabbed at her eyes with the back of her hand, and fished in her purse for a compact to make sure that her eye makeup was still in place. For a split second, she didn't recognize her own reflection in the little round mirror. Lots of mascara, and red lipstick (mostly smudged off by now) and long windswept dark hair—obviously Lyddie's influence. The term "hot mess" sprung to mind, but 90% the "mess" part. Her bangs stuck to her forehead.

Elizabeth snapped the compact closed with a click and got to her feet, teetering in heels but grateful for wearing jeans. She brushed dirt from the back of her thighs and hugged her arms to her chest. A taxi whistled by, and then another. If she registered her surroundings, a cacophony of blaring car horns could be heard, and shouting. Lots and _lots_ of shouting. She wondered if she could ever live in the city. It was so loud and abrasive, so in-your-face.

And then she heard pieces of a conversation behind her.

"—so happy you could make it—"

"You're so _silly_—"

Lizzy turned. Two people were speaking in the alley behind her, hovering by the open door that led backstage. It was an emergency exit, but the alarm wasn't going off.

She only saw two silhouettes; a woman and a man, the latter considerably taller than the other. Then the girl shifted, her face suddenly illuminated by the scarlet light of the EXIT sign; Elizabeth recognized her immediately as the pretty, black-haired lead singer of the last act. Only she couldn't remember her name.

"Thank you for the flowers," the girl grinned. "And here I was thinking that you had forgotten me again."

"I don't break my promises, Georgie. _Ever_."

"Yes, yes, you're a man of your word. We know. How was the flight over?"

"It was hell. I hate flying and you know that."

She burst into giggles, swatting his arm. "You're such a _baby_. NyQuil—one dose before take off."

"I'll remember that next time," he sighed heavily, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Elizabeth felt the color drain out of her face. She wasn't dense enough to overlook it, despite the slight buzz of alcohol. _His voice_. If she didn't know any better, that man sounded almost exactly like...

A man bumped into her then, _collided_ even, so that Elizabeth gasped and nearly flew into the brick wall before he caught her, laughing. She looked up at him, furious, before she recognized him as Ginger Guitarist Boy, his crop of red hair familiar. He had lost his bass guitar but had put on a fresh leather jacket over his white tee, looking every bit the swanky rock musician, despite being little-known. "Sorry love," he trilled. "Didn't see you there. Oi, Darcies!"

That was it, then. They both looked up, at the same time. Both faces awash in the red glow—jet black hair and startlingly blue eyes. One face was much (_much_) more familiar than the other, and Lizzy suddenly felt a whole _new_ wave of nausea overcome her.

Her eyes widened, and Will Darcy's mouth fell open, stunned. "Elizabeth?"

"'Scuse me," she pushed past the guitarist, accidentally ramming his shoulder and bruising herself in the process. Wincing, she waved her wrist at the bouncer and he checked her fluorescent stamp, letting her back inside. Her shoulder throbbed and her mouth felt dry and Lizzy wanted, no, _needed_, to find Lydia as soon as humanly possible.

It was loud and hot and dark and a migraine had begun to pulse at her temples. Lydia was at the bar, of course, already gigglingly clinging onto the arm of some guy who looked old enough to be her father. Elizabeth wrenched her away and pulled her towards the restroom corridor. "What the fuck is your _problem_?" Lydia all but screeched. "That was rude!"

"We have to get out of here."

"I don't _think_ so, Lucy promised me a backstage pass. I want to meet Peaches and Herb or whoever the fuck they were. Their bass player is hot."

"Some other time. C'mon. Let's go."

"No! _No_, I refuse. What the hell is going on? You were having such a great time!"

Elizabeth groaned and rubbed her shoulder. "I just... I—"

"You're so _pale_, Jesus Christ, where have you been?" Lydia asked, eyes suddenly wide with concern.

Chancing it, Lizzy took a glimpse out of the corridor, searching through the sea of faces for Will Darcy's. She noted with relief that she couldn't find him. ...But that meant that he was still outside. Or maybe he was at the bar now. "Oh, I _hate_ this," she whined, "I feel like I'm playing some idiotic game. Lydia, do me a favor and meet me outside in two minutes. _Humor_ me, all right?"

"All right, _fine_, but you better explain yourself—!"

"I will!"

She was already moving towards the other exit, the one that let out onto the opposite street corner. Lizzy threaded through couples and tables, excusing herself and then unapologetically streaming through, bumping hips, rude and unaffected. She had just rounded the corner, the _furthest_ you could possibly get from the stage, when she ran into something hard and nearly tripped. Will Darcy steadied her, his hands on her shoulders.

Lizzy looked up at him, breathless.

"Hi."

"...Hi."

"Did you just run away from me? Literally?"

"No! No. _No_. ...No. I just—I was looking for my sister, Lydia. What are you," Lizzy winced, hating herself, "what are you doing here?"

"I can barely hear you. Let's go outside."

"OK," said Lizzy meekly.

Outside it was too quiet—too muted and mellow and Elizabeth suddenly felt _very_ self-conscious, out on the asphalt with the man who had unknowingly been clouding her conscience (and guilty dreams) a little too frequently as of late. Darcy hadn't changed at all. In fact, he was better looking than she remembered. She contemplated hating him all over again, just for that.

His blue eyes searched her face, still surprised. There was an awkward, considerable distance between them.

Lizzy cleared her throat, loud and unladylike. "So."

"_So_," Darcy echoed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You're... here."

"I'm here."

"It's good to see you. You look nice."

"Thanks, so do you," said Lizzy automatically. _I want to die._

There was a fifteen second lapse where neither did anything but stare at the other, and Lizzy felt all the blood in her body pool around her cheeks. A car alarm went off in the distance, startling and inconsolable. Will looked away, clenched his jaw, and then tentatively looked back. "I um... my sister, Georgie, she was playing tonight."

"I saw. I mean, I figured it out. She was lovely," Elizabeth smiled a little too eagerly, and then toned it down. "I mean, she's beautiful. And talented. Their band is really, really good."

"Thanks, I'll tell her you thought so."

"Great."

"Would you like to meet her?" Will suddenly asked, hopeful.

"No," said Lizzy, instantly regretting it when a look of disappointment crossed his face. Her hands twisted anxiously. "No, I'd love to, don't get me wrong. Just maybe not right now. I have to find my sister, you see, and it's getting _late_, and we still have to drive all the way back to Philadelphia—"

"Lizzy!"

Elizabeth spun around.

Lydia's timing was so perfect that she could have kissed her. The blonde was shrugging on her jacket, huffing and straightening out the collar. "OK, _Crazy_, what is the goddamn emergency—?" She looked up at Darcy and the last of her inquiry died on her lips. Curious, she glanced at her older sister to Will Darcy and back. "Oh. Hello."

"Hi, I'm Will," he introduced himself, extending his hand with a smile.

Lydia beamed and stepped forward to shake his hand. "Lydia."

They fell into a comfortable silence again, in which Lydia tried very obviously to dissect the nature of the relationship between her silent older sister and the handsome stranger before them.

"We should get going," said Elizabeth quickly.

"You're both welcome to stay," replied Will. "Georgie's band is having some after-party thing. Not really a _party_, just a really late dinner. It was their first successfully booked gig in a couple months, since they had a bit of a dry spell. I'm sure they'd love to have you there. It's at the Ritz—"

"The Ritz?" squeaked Lydia. "The Ritz-Carlton. Oh, _Lizzy_."

"We couldn't possibly impose," Lizzy was shaking her head.

"We could _very_ possibly impose," Lydia interrupted. Elizabeth turned her head to deliver a tight-lipped glare.

Darcy was smiling, easygoing and amused. "Hey, I insist. And it's late enough as it is, you wouldn't even have to drive back. We could put you up for the night."

"I can't afford a room at the Ritz—"

"I'll cover it," Will shrugged.

Lizzy looked at him seriously. "You don't need to do that. Honestly. I have gas in my car, and an EZ Pass, and _every_ intention of getting home tonight."

"Lizzy, can I talk to you for a moment?" Lydia interrupted. "Excuse us." She didn't wait for Elizabeth to respond, simply took her hand and led her patiently to the entrance of the club again. Her voice was hushed and urgent: "There is a _super_ hot guy offering you a room at a luxury hotel and a chance for us to have a late-late dinner with Peaches and Cream—"

"Peaches and the Chemist," Lizzy interjected.

"—and their very attractive redhead guitarist whose number I need by the end of tonight," Lydia finished. "How is the word 'no' even forming in the back of your head right now?"

"Easily!" Lizzy defended herself. "You don't know them."

"Um, you do. You obviously know Will."

"I don't, Will's just... he's... a friend of a friend. Sort of," Lizzy scratched her head. A blush was working its way across her cheeks again, and it didn't go unnoticed.

Lydia smirked. "You're into him."

"_What_?"

"Well, he's into you. And so help me, if you say no, I will kick your ass."

"Excuse me? Kick _my_ ass. Honey, I will take you _down_—"

A van had already parked at the curb, its engine still running. Lydia was looking over her sister's shoulder hopefully, as the bandmates scooted in, laughing and tossing their instrument cases into the trunk. Lydia's green eyes were comically wide and begging. Lizzy crossed her arms over her chest. "That's a white, unmarked van. Mom told us not to go into those."

"Oh, please. I thought _Jane_ was supposed to be the maternal buzz-kill," Lydia scoffed. "Lizzy, you surprise me, normally you'd be all into this. Is it that guy?"

"No! Y—_no_. It's a long story," said Elizabeth.

"He's looking at you now," Lydia's mouth stretched into a slow smile. "Oops, _caught_, just looked away. You told me you weren't seeing anyone."

"I'm _not_!" Elizabeth all but squeaked defiantly.

She looked over her shoulder then. Georgiana was back outside, and Will was talking to her again, rubbing the side of his face and smirking at something she had said. His eyes locked with Lizzy's and he gave a slow, friendly smile. He even waved. Lizzy politely smiled back. _Wow, this is awkward._

"So there's nothing there?" prompted Lydia.

"No, nothing."

"Friend of a friend?"

"Friend of a friend."

"Then _go_."

"Fine!" Lizzy glowered. "Fine, we'll go!"

Lydia yelped in happiness and bounced on the balls of her feet, tugging her sister in for a hug. And Elizabeth wondered miserably why her life was punishing her for a single night out.


	18. Collision: Part II

_This night is winding down but time means nothing_  
_As always at this hour, time means nothing_  
_One final, final round 'cause time means nothing_  
_Say that you'll stay_  
_Say that you'll stay_

"After Hours" by We Are Scientists

**xx**

Will felt a little like a fraud. He felt the corners of his lips turn up and his mouth form around all the appropriate words, at all the appropriate times—Mr. Cavalier himself. Was he trying too hard? Did _Lizzy_ think that he was trying too hard? He took a sip of his water and felt anticipation crawl unnervingly up his spine. Also, if his little sister could stop giving him the stink eye, he would feel a little less like an asshole.

"Georgie, stop giving me the stink eye."

Georgie had been side-eyeing him perceptively for about ten minutes. She pursed her lips to keep from giggling. "It's just a little weird; you agreeing with everything that everybody says. You're so," she drummed her fingers against her chin thoughtfully, "what's that word—_agreeable_."

"Point for you," he mumbled. "I do not agree with _everything_."

"Yeah? I called you an assface a little while back and you nodded," Georgie chortled, grinning. "_Nodded_, Will! Just so you wouldn't seem confrontational!"

Will scowled and then remembered not to.

Across the circular table sat the rest of Georgie's friends, thankfully oblivious to their conversation. Shoshanna was their drummer, a pretty Israeli girl with black ringlets tied back with a fluorescent neon bandana. Nathan—well, Will still didn't know much about Nathan, except that he lived in Chelsea, played the acoustic guitar quite well and had drunkenly gotten a tattoo of a white tiger on his 22nd birthday. He never said where, but Will highly suspected it was a tramp stamp.

He liked Gabe best, Gabe the ginger, because he had known him longest. Gabe was an old roommate of Richard's from his university days in London; he had introduced him to the band when they were in dire need of a bassist. Gabe was smart and pleasant and...

Lydia Bennet was sort of coiled around him now, even though he had just mentioned his girlfriend for the third time that evening.

Will's eyes kept falling back on Elizabeth, frowning at the menu thoughtfully, wondering what she could afford. He felt himself smile reflexively, then stop, because Georgie was looking right at him. But he couldn't help himself. This was... well, this was unbelievable. Here she was. Lizzy Bennet. _Elizabeth_ Bennet. With him. Well, with _them_. In Manhattan, near Battery Park. She had been at _his_ sister's gig, tonight of all nights, and Will suddenly found it difficult to believe in coincidences anymore.

After what had happened at Rosings, he was ninety percent sure he would never see her again. He remembered the dread that curled tightly in his stomach and made him feel sick, and all that came afterwards—the rush of all the things he should have said, and could have done, to make the outcome of that night less of a car wreck than it had been. _Idiot, idiot, idiot_.

The letter had been a whole-hearted attempt to correct himself. He wondered how she had reacted to it.

Lizzy, feeling his eyes on her, lifted her gaze from the menu. A blush worked its way across her cheeks and she looked back down.

"Will, are you listening?"

"What?" He glanced up. "Oh, sorry. No."

Gabe smiled at him and asked him for the bread bowl again.

Across the table, Elizabeth Bennet was in hell.

It was shiny five-star polished hell and the waiters were very obliging, even though the hotel restaurant was forced to stay open an additional two hours to accomodate the Darcies and company; she wasn't quite sure how she felt about that. It felt snooty. Will knew the head chef. Of course he did. People with money know other people with money.

She was struck by her own bitchiness.

_Why are you being such a brat about this?_ _You probably don't even have to pay_. _Count your lucky, debt-ridden stars._

She perused the menu prices anyway, and felt her eyebrows rocket up and stay there. "Holy shit on toast."

Nathan nudged her with his elbow. "I don't think they serve that 'ere," he joked through a mouthful of bread.

Lydia was still flirting heavily with Gabe. Poor Gabe. He really didn't have a defense against girls like her. He was cute, and he was a musician and he was British. And he was _way_ too nice, trying all variants of "Er, I have a girlfriend" instead of "Fuck off." Then again, Lizzy didn't feel too sorry for him. He had blown her cover when she was spying on the Darcies; if he had never bumped into her, she wouldn't be in this predicament right now.

_This terrible, terrible predicament. Where the food is complimentary and delicious, and you're in a luxury hotel with a group of talented, interesting people_.

"Stupid girl."

Will Darcy was looking at her. Again. Which had happened in their acquaintance before, but now he tended to smile at her when they made eye contact, lovely and friendly and polite. She didn't know how to deal with this—with _him_. He was being so nice. _Why_ was he being so nice? Was he burying the hatchet? She didn't bury hatchets. This hatchet could not be buried. This hatchet jutted out of the ground, blade up.

Lizzy glanced up at him again. Darcy was speaking to Gabe, and he chuckled lowly at something he had said. She wanted Will to say something dry, something moody and distinctly Darcyish that she could twist around and fire back at him. She could work with _that_.

Then again... maybe it was silly of her to think that things could revert to how they were before Charlotte's wedding. The nature of their relationship had changed the minute he kissed her.

"Did you enjoy it?" Georgiana asked her. Startled, Lizzy refocused her attention, but the younger girl had an air of smug sweetness about her now. She had caught Lizzy staring at her brother.

"I'm sorry?"

"The concert. Did you enjoy it?" Georgie repeated.

"Oh! Yeah," said Lizzy, smiling. "I stole a set list right before you guys left... you know, to look up your album on the internet and download the songs illegally."

Lydia untangled herself from Gabe long enough to cheekily add, "She may or may not be kidding on that one."

"Wow. Piracy. Way to support us," Shoshanna sniffed. Elizabeth tipped her glass of water in her honor and took a sip. The drummer smirked.

"You liar. I saw you buy our CD in the lobby, just before you left," Gabe insisted. He was beaming widely. "And then I highfived you. We had a moment." At this, Lizzy slumped in her chair and sulked, and he started to laugh—which reminded Lydia to renew her affections. She threaded her arm through his.

"Fine, fine, _maybe_ I sometimes support you cute little underground bands before you sell out."

"Here's hoping," muttered Shoshanna.

"Well, that means you liked us," Georgie responded, satisfied. "I'm glad. I've been told that you're difficult to impress."

There was a flicker of a moment where Will and Lizzy met eyes across the table again. This time, it was Will's turn to blush; he took a long gulp of his water.

"She's really not that difficult to impress; she thinks _every_thing is funny," said Lydia with a giggle. Elizabeth remembered that she was a little tipsy, before her little sister nudged her. "Remember that toilet paper commercial? You cracked the fuck _up_!"

"Lyddie, that was you."

Lydia hesitated. "Oh, right. _Hey!_ When you guys covered Radiohead, that sounded more like Cake. Except you're not a dude. Was that intentional?"

"Not really, no."

Lydia began to giggle. "_Wow_."

Will raised his eyebrows, amused. "Is she...?"

"Pissed? I think so," said Gabe, removing her hand from his. "Listen. You're a very pretty girl, but you're quite drunk. Maybe it's time to take you home."

"Where's home?" purred Lydia. Before he could answer, she started brushing back his hair. "Your _hair_. Your hair looks like pennies. Did you know that some people are afraid of gingers? That whole _gingers have no souls_ thing?"

"What?" said Gabe, snorting.

Their waiter swung by again to take their order. When it was Lizzy's turn, she smiled up at him: "Hi. Um, nothing to eat, thanks. Not very hungry. Just two coffees. Regular." To Lydia, she murmured, "I need some caffeine before the drive home."

"Oh, you _have_ to try the lobster bisque. And the filet mignon," encouraged Nathan. "Come on, get Will for all he's worth, he agreed to pay for dinner _weeks_ ago."

"I did," shrugged Will.

"Daddy Warbucks," Gabe simpered, jutting out his lower lip.

"I'll hit you."

Georgie started to giggle.

"I can't," Lizzy smiled despite herself. "It's late. I'm not that hungry. And I'm sure Lydia isn't—"

"I'll have the steak, medium rare, just a touch of pink. Also, a side of mashed potatoes and green beans," Lydia counted off, practically batting her eyelashes. "Oh, and a bowl of the lobster bisque. And a ginger ale."

Elizabeth sighed and ordered the soup as well.

By the time they got up to the suite, she was sleepy and sated with delicious food and wine. Lizzy couldn't remember who was staying here; she thought maybe just the girls, Georgie and Shoshanna, though the latter had vanished with Nathan for a pharmacy run. They were in the Diamond Suite, luxurious with its scarlet velvety curtains and marble tiles, the canopy king-sized bed and—"Holy fuck, is that a baby grand?"

Gabe was already sitting on the bench, plucking out scales. He beamed at her, "Do you play?"

"God no," Lizzy snorted, leaning across the black polished wood. She ran her fingers off the edges. Not a dust particle in sight. "My mother tried to get me to take piano lessons. I wish I had more patience as a kid."

"Will plays some, don't you, Will?" hollered Gabe across the room. Lizzy turned. Will was nowhere to be seen. "Oh. Whoops. He probably popped outside for a second."

"I didn't know he played," said Elizabeth quietly.

"Mm," Gabe shrugged, and Lizzy recognized the slow, imprecise notes to a Mozart piece. She watched Gabe for a moment and, emboldened, suddenly asked him, "Do you really have a girlfriend back home?"

Gabe stopped playing and looked up at her sheepishly. "No. It's my defense against groupies." A beat, "Sorry, that's quite optimistic. _Future_ groupies, then."

"But the whole point of being a musician is that you're kind of obligated to _enjoy_ groupies," said Lizzy, laughing. "And Lydia's not a groupie! I think." Gabe's eyebrows rose skeptically and Elizabeth chuckled, "I'm a terrible sister. She's just really into you, that's all I'm saying. Even before she got a little drunk."

Gabe shook his head and smirked. "I'll call her when she's sobered up."

"I think she's better when she's buzzed," Lizzy muttered and Gabe began to laugh.

"Are you staying the night?" he asked her, patting the bench beside him. Elizabeth took a seat and stared at the ivory keys.

"Um... I had hoped not to but—"

"'Cause you know Will's probably downstairs in the lobby booking you a room as we speak."

She sighed heavily. _Is it wrong to be pissed off at a person for his generosity?_

"I know," said Gabe intuitively, "makes you feel a bit like shit, doesn't it? These Darcies. But truthfully, you couldn't find a nicer, more decent family. I thought it was only Richard who had a heart of gold, but then I keep meeting his relatives and I'm always floored by how _good_ they are."

"You know Richard?"

"Of course," Gabe nodded. "Ex-roommate, back when we were living in Hammersmith. He set me up with Peaches in the first place, when my own band fell apart. You've met him?"

"Yeah," Lizzy laughed. She was surprised by how much she suddenly _missed_ Richard and his stupid, grinning face; missed the jabs and the jokes at her expense. Perhaps he had been the only thing that had gotten her through Rosings. "Yeah, I met Richard," she murmured, staring at the keys once more. She plucked out the first three notes of 'Ode to Joy' before giving up. "Guess I'm staying then! Even though Lydia's already asleep."

Gabe looked across the room.

Her younger sister was curled up on the sofa, her heels abandoned on the floor and her legs curled up to her chest. Lydia's bright blonde hair partially obscured her face and her mouth hung open a bit; Lizzy was tempted to brush it back behind her ears. She snored softly and then stopped, stirring.

Will shut the door behind him and tossed a set of keys in Lizzy's direction. She caught them, startled, and he smiled, "Nice catch."

"Where's your sister?" asked Gabe.

"Taking a phone call."

"_Ah_."

"Ah."

"This one clocked out early," Gabe nodded his head in Lydia's direction.

Will looked. "Oh."

Ten minutes later, Lizzy could only think of how odd it was to see Will Darcy carrying her baby sister across the hallway to their room. She was weirdly touched by it, until Lydia wrapped her arms around Will's neck and sleepily slurred, "You smell _clean_."

A beat. "Thanks."

When Lydia was safely in bed, Lizzy brushed her hair back and pulled the comforter up to her shoulders. Her mascara was smudged, and she would possibly die of embarrassment in the morning when she found out that Gabe had seen her this way (but would then be redeemed when she discovered that his girlfriend was imaginary). For now, Elizabeth felt a pang of affection for her younger sister, especially when she squeezed her hand and mumbled, "I love you, Lizzy."

"Love you too, kiddo," she bent over and kissed her cheek. "Sleep it off."

Will had stepped outside on the balcony to give them privacy. Elizabeth slid the glass door open and joined him a moment later. He looked over his shoulder and half-smiled at her. "All OK?"

"Yeah, she's fine. A full night's rest and some strong coffee in the morning—I think she'll pull through."

"She's nothing like you, you know."

"I know," Lizzy chuckled under her breath and leaned out across the railing. "We both have green eyes, but that's about it. I like being with her, though. She makes me seem like the sensible one."

He didn't say anything. She chewed on her bottom lip.

Down below them, the traffic had whittled down. Lizzy watched a taxi just make it before a yellow light switched to red. She tilted her head to regard Will. He was looking at his hands, gripping the black railing. She wondered what he was thinking about. "Thanks for the room," Elizabeth finally said. "I'll pay you back."

"Don't worry about—"

"I will pay you back," Lizzy repeated firmly.

Darcy smirked at her, and she felt a spike of something run up her spine—adrenaline or anticipation, she couldn't tell the difference. She couldn't quite comprehend the expression on his face either. Lizzy glanced out across the skyline again, because it was safe.

Silence fell like a blanket around them, and she would have given anything to break it under ordinary circumstances. But Lizzy didn't want to address the elephant in the room. What was she supposed to _say_?

Will dragged his hand sleepily across his face. He folded his arms against the railing and rested his chin against them. "What a long night," he said wearily.

"Yeah," mumbled Lizzy. "Where did you fly in from?"

"Toronto."

"Globe-trotter, you."

"Yeah, Canada's a real hike," Will grinned.

Lizzy found herself laughing. "What were you there for?"

"Oh, you know. Hockey games and maple syrup. What else?"

"I should have known. Way to utilize those stereotypes."

Darcy laughed and Lizzy found herself smiling as a reflex. _Am I flirting with Will Darcy or is this an out-of-body experience?_ She promised herself that she would stop. What if she gave him the wrong idea? Lizzy frowned. _Take it easy._

"So," Will started, his voice low, "about this elephant in the room—"

"_Ugh_, please don't," Lizzy begged, resting her forehead against her folded hands. "I'll die," she mumbled.

"Speaking of which, can you not lean out across the railing?" Darcy asked suddenly.

Elizabeth lifted her head. She grinned and stood on her tiptoes, moving her torso out beyond the railing. "Why, does it make you nervous?"

"_Yes_. And that's not funny."

She apologized and stepped back onto the balls of her feet, half-smirking. "Wow, it's like you _care_ about me or something."

Will was looking at her perceptively, the corners of his mouth tugged down into a frown. There was something accusatory and hard about his expression, and when he looked back outwards toward the city skyline, his jaw snapped closed with a click. He glanced down at his hands again, just for a moment, and said nothing.

Lizzy was unpleasantly reminded of the fact that they couldn't be light and affable—not really. Was this still just wounded pride? Because surely he didn't still feel...

"I'll let you get some sleep," murmured Will suddenly. He had pushed away from the balcony railing and brushed his hands against his shirt. Lizzy turned to face him, remorse obvious on her face. She had her arms folded tightly across her body and Darcy regarded her for awhile before shrugging out of his jacket. "You look cold," he explained, reaching across to drape it over her shoulders—it was a worn, brown canvas jacket and it was entirely too big for her.

"Thanks," said Lizzy, glancing back up at him. She pulled her arms through the sleeves—it was still warm from his body—and zipped it three quarters of the way up. "Much better," she murmured, smiling to brighten the mood.

"Glad to hear it," said Will. "I'll see you in the morning. Don't be shy."

"You got it," Lizzy chirped.

Darcy lingered a second longer after he had said goodbye, and Lizzy wondered if he was going to say anything more. But then he simply smiled, a formality more than anything else, and excused himself. When he finally left the room, Elizabeth felt her shoulders drop and tremendous weight lift off of her chest, unaware that she had been carrying such an overbearing thing in the first place.

She turned and looked over her shoulder, at Lydia buried under the flowered, plush comforter—sleeping and oblivious. "We leave first thing tomorrow morning, baby doll."

Lizzy leaned out across the balcony and breathed in deeply for what seemed like the first time that evening. She felt a pin prickle of anxiety at the nape of her neck, just at her spine, and clenched her hands in response. Her eyes fell shut. _God, I'm such a fraud._


	19. Dodging Bullets

Elizabeth felt the tension crackle in her neck and shoulders and sat up groggily in bed. It was too, _too _bright and she was seized with the sudden urge to fling herself out of bed, grab hold of the heavy curtains and yank them forward, plunging the hotel room into cool, comfortable darkness again. Her fingers twitched and then the phone rang.

It was sandwiched between ear and shoulder, and her own voice rasped and sounded far away to her own ears. "What?"

"_Good morning, Miss Bennet. This is the eight o'clock wake-up call you requested_."

"Did I?" asked Lizzy, wincing as she unstuck her glittery tank top from her abdomen; a sequin had embedded itself into her skin overnight, leaving behind an intricate pattern. "Where am I again?" she muttered, half-serious.

There was a short pause. "_The Ritz-Carlton hotel, ma'am. Battery Park, Manhattan. New York_."

"Thanks—_oh! _Are you guys serving breakfast?"

"_Yes, the restaurant downstairs is open now._"

Lizzy thanked the concierge and put the phone down without looking, so that it just missed its cradle and toppled on the nightstand. Then she flopped back down onto her pillows, grateful for the entirety of the bed for once. Lydia, bless her soul, had hogged about three fourths of it for the entire night. She was reminded why she had always bunked with Jane all those years. _Sleep, sleep, blissful sleep._

She jolted upright in bed with a gasp, her hair strewn all over her face. "Lydia!"

Fifteen minutes were spent combing every surface area of the hotel room, even resorting to checking behind the shower curtain in case her little sister had fallen asleep in the tub. Lydia's phone, an iPhone 3G with its hot pink cover, sat untouched on the bureau. As Lizzy stared at it, she started to feel her chest constrict with nerves. She felt queasy. _Babysitting was fucking _not_ on this agenda_.

There was only one thing to do—find Will and his friends and check if they had seen her. Lizzy slung her purse over her shoulder and marched out. Then she returned to put on her pants.

Will was only five rooms down the corridor, which he had helpfully pointed out the night before. It didn't occur to her that it was a little too early in the morning, so she hammered on the door with her fists. It swung open.

The words tumbled out of Lizzy's mouth. "Have you seen my sister?"

Darcy blinked at her blearily. "Pardon?" he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. His hair stuck up at one end and he was wearing a gray t-shirt and boxers.

Lizzy paled when she realized she had woken him up. "Um, nothing. So sorry. Go back to sleep," she rattled off, turning on her heel.

Will caught her hand with a short laugh, "Wait, _what_? Stay. What's wrong?"

"I woke up this morning and Lydia wasn't there. Didn't bother to take her cell phone either. Oh God, I just hope it happened this _morning_ and she didn't wander off shit-faced in the middle of the night." Lizzy pulled a hand through her hair, antsy. "You know what, maybe she went off to find Gabe and the others. D'you think?"

"Could be." Will stepped aside to let her through. "Come in. I'll call Georgie and see what she knows."

Georgie had seen her. In fact, Lydia had stepped outside to walk with Gabe in the park and the plan was that they would all meet for breakfast in about fifteen minutes. Will was speaking into the phone, nodding. His voice was soft and gravelly, still thick with sleep. "All right. Yeah. Sure, I'll see you there. Thanks, Georgie."

Sitting on the edge of his mattress, Lizzy exhaled through her nostrils and rested her forehead against her knees. "I will kill her."

Will, not awake enough to pick up on social cues, stood awkwardly in front of the bathroom door and said nothing.

Lizzy winced. "I'm sorry for waking you up. I just got so scared. I thought it was her early teenage years all over again. You know, no phone calls, late parties, strange city." She was conscious of rambling and snapped her jaw shut, reddening.

"She sounds like a handful," Will said helpfully.

"Yeah."

"Um…" he frowned, gathering his thoughts, "I'm just gonna wash up and get changed. Do you wanna stick around? I assume you're going downstairs too. I'll be five minutes."

"Yeah, that's fine. I'll wait," said Lizzy, striving for nonchalance. "Sorry for waking you up!" she called after him again.

"No, it's OK. I was already …up." Darcy assured her, half-smiling. "Well, I was getting there."

She didn't believe him.

The bathroom door creaked closed and Lizzy sighed, embarrassment eating away at her. She looked straight ahead and caught her reflection in the bureau mirror—messy hair, smudged eyeliner from last night. At least she had traded her heels in for her black ballet flats, which she had sensibly packed before leaving. Her arches still felt sore. She lifted her bare feet out of the shoes and curled her toes.

Lizzy flopped backwards onto the comforter; she rested her head on folded hands and stared at the blades of the ceiling fan. She could hear the faucet running and turned her head, noting that Will hadn't shut the door properly.

She could see his profile through the gap, saw him standing over the faucet with both hands resting against the marble counter as water filled the sink—watched the muscles of his arms flex and relax and tense up again. Darcy seemed pensive or sleepy or both, his brow furrowed, his jaw set. There was stubble on his chin. _So this is Will Darcy in the morning._

It suddenly occurred to her that she could have seen him like this a couple months ago, if there had been more wine involved that night and less injured pride.

Lizzy felt her face get hot and sat up.

Downstairs at the breakfast table, the coffee was strong and the bread rolls were hot. She would have spent more time chastising Lydia for giving her a panic attack if she hadn't been so mesmerized by a man in a white toque expertly flipping her omelet and filling it with spinach and mozzarella cheese. "Can you live with me?" Lydia asked him, and he grinned, laughing.

An hour later, Lizzy was sad to go. Gabe had taught her the bass line to one of their songs and her fingertips were sore and unpracticed from pressing strings ("This is where guitar calluses come in handy"). Shoshanna had invited her to her apartment in Brooklyn for a barbecue three weekends away. Nathan had given her his pick. It was an odd but warm sort of initiation.

The only person she couldn't quite figure out was Georgie. Keen, perceptive little Georgie. She was perfectly nice, but there was a level of guardedness about her, a watchfulness—her brother had told her things, and Lizzy wanted and _didn't_ want to know what had been said.

After breakfast, they set off to leave. They were parked outside of the rotunda of the hotel, Gabe helping Lydia load their bags into the trunk of the car. Lizzy turned the key in the ignition just as Darcy came round, leaning against her rolled down window. She tugged his brown jacket free from the hook in the backseat, folded it and handed it over.

Will raised a hand, "Nah, that's OK. Hang onto it for now. Leverage," he smiled. "I still have something of yours that I need to return."

Lizzy looked puzzled. "You do?"

"Yeah. You let me borrow an umbrella months ago. The green one?"

"I did!" Elizabeth laughed, "I was wondering where that went. OK, deal. We'll do an exchange at some point."

"Deal," Darcy grinned, extending a hand through the window. She shook it.

And then Lizzy couldn't stop herself from blurting, "So are we awkward friends now?" She felt the corners of her mouth stretch in a slow smile. "_Bitter rivals_ who bonded over good music and delicious food?"

Will smirked, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. His blue eyes flickered to hers, and there was something there that was unreadable, something she didn't want to examine too closely. "I'll take it," he murmured, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Lizzy chewed on her bottom lip and looked out the windshield. Lydia and Gabe stood on the curb now. Gabe leaned forward and plucked a feather out of Lydia's blonde hair, and she blinked at him coquettishly.

"Lizzy!" Georgie had bumped her brother out of the way, and stood grinning at her through the open window. "Come visit us next weekend. It's my birthday on Sunday."

"Is it, really? OK," Lizzy laughed. "Where?"

"Home. In Connecticut." Georgie suddenly gasped, seizing Will by the elbow, "Nan has to cook for her! Oh, she'll _die_." Darcy was smiling widely, boyishly—Georgie seemed to work this expression out of him a lot, and it was a side to him that Lizzy had never seen before.

"You should go," he was nodding.

"Stop trying to feed me," Lizzy mock-whined.

"Clear your weekend," Georgie commanded, and her blue eyes narrowed threateningly. "Bridgeport. The Pemberley Estate. Your sister can come, too. Here, give me your number." She had already whipped out her iPhone and was thumbing through her contacts. "I'll call you later this week."

The passenger door slammed just as Lizzy and the youngest Darcy exchanged digits, and Lydia strapped in her seatbelt and propped her bare feet up over the dashboard. "Let's roll!" she clicked her tongue and pointed her fingers, as if wielding a gun.

"Will you come?" Will asked her, leaning down on his elbows.

Lizzy turned her head. In her mind, she already saw herself saying no; she saw the way her face would dip low apologetically and how she would ramble off some half-believable excuse about lesson plans to create, or family dinners to attend, perhaps an invented neighbor had asked her to help him move his sofa. But her lips moved of their own volition. "Yeah. I'll do my best."

Will looked unbearably pleased. "Great!"

It wasn't until they had been driving for about an hour, wedged in bumper-to-bumper traffic, that Lydia decided to confront Lizzy. She thought she had been dozing for a few minutes, her blonde head dipped low to the opposite shoulder, legs curled up to her chest. But then she twisted around and Lizzy saw the electric blue earbuds in place, which she unhooked and wrapped around her iPod. "So," the younger girl drawled. "You and Will, huh?"

"What?" Lizzy snorted, keeping her eyes trained on the road.

"_Friend of a friend_, my ass. Where do you know him from?"

She rolled her eyes and shook her head, bent on being good-humored. "Charlotte's wedding, if you must know." _Among other places_.

Lydia laughed, "Man, it's so obvious that you slept with him. Or almost slept with him. Or _could have_ slept with him. And oh my god, I didn't know your face could _turn_ that shade of purple, look how _cute_—!" Elizabeth had reached over to thwack her upside the head and Lydia tore away, releasing peals of laughter. "Somebody's got a crush!"

"You're an idiot."

"In all seriousness, thank you for whatever you said to Gabe," Lydia said, waving her phone. "I got his number! How long should I wait to Facebook friend him? Do you think he tweets?"

"Wouldn't it be nice to live in an era where people still sent each other letters?" asked Lizzy sentimentally. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel as they crawled to a stop. "They would see each other a few times a year and sustain their love through words; _poetic_ enduring words. Not, you know, _sexting_ or Twitter."

Lydia was staring at her with one eyebrow cocked, and her lips twisted into a derisive smirk. "I swear, sometimes I just want to swath you in a cardigan and bunny slippers and stick you next to a heater and a rerun of _The Price is Right_—ouch!" She pouted and rubbed her arm furiously. "Don't _pinch_ me."

"You annoy me," said Lizzy coolly. "Also, that was for this morning."

* * *

The trails in Oakham Park were deceptive and winding, and much more suited to Jane's tastes than her own. Lizzy practically flung her arms around the nearest tree, wincing at the kink in her side. "I thought you _hated_ hiking!" she scowled, lifting her water bottle to her lips. Jane beamed from the hill up ahead, her strawberry blonde ponytail streaming like a banner behind her. She looked so lean and athletic and sun-kissed; she could have been a model for a trail mix commercial, or Nike sneakers.

"This isn't hiking; this is _walking_."

"Uphill. For three hours. In the wilderness," Elizabeth reasoned. Her hair was starting to frizz in the heat, and she mopped her bangs back impatiently.

"I'm practicing, OK? Brian wants to go on a camping trip next weekend." Jane stopped to wipe the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. "I don't want him to think I'm some sheltered, _indoorsy_ girl."

"But you _are_ a sheltered, indoorsy girl," said Lizzy dryly. She swatted at a mosquito on her ankle.

Her sister sighed gravely and waved her hand, as if certain things were simply beyond the means of her comprehension—which they probably were.

Brian Kilworth II, that was his name. "What a cute little serial killer name for your monogrammed towels!" Elizabeth had sniggered when she heard it first, before Jane pursed her lips in disappointment. They had been dating for three and a half weeks; they met at the conference in Newark. He was an occupational therapist.

She didn't like him but assured Jane that she did.

He was nice. Very, _very_ nice. But there was something about him that was chilly and pretentious. It slipped into his words sometimes. Also, he liked the Yankees. Also, he wore top-siders and smelled a little too strongly of Bulgari cologne. Also, he wasn't Charles Bingley.

Lizzy slid down the tree and took a seat, brushing the dirt off of her shorts. She could feel her thighs physically _vibrating_ from the hike and stretched out her hamstrings, gripping the toes of her sneakers. Jane met her shortly, leaning her weight onto one hip. "I wonder how many miles we've gone so far," she said conversationally, her eyes flickering up.

Elizabeth let her head fall backwards and glanced up as well, at the cracks of dusky gray-blue peeping between leafy green treetops. "Well, we passed civilization like an hour ago, and there's no horse poop from the park rangers nearby. Good for the smell, bad for survival."

Jane nudged her with her foot but she was smirking. "Hey, you never told me about last weekend. How was the concert in New York?"

"Oh," Lizzy took a sip of water again, held it for a moment before she swallowed. "It was fun."

"Mom told me that Lydia got to meet some band," Jane said lightly, flicking a bug off of her elbow. "Of course, the girl's pretty much grounded now. Our mother practically had a conniption. Did you _know_ that she dropped out of school before you took her up there?"

"No," said Lizzy automatically.

Jane shook her head disapprovingly and sighed. "Wildcard."

Lizzy watched a frighteningly large ant burrow its way into the dirt and emerge on the other side. She was becoming shockingly apt at lying lately. Little lies, of course—nothing that concerned the location of concealed nuclear arms, or the paternity of a child. But what worried her the most was how little it _actually_ worried her. Wasn't her conscience supposed to be morally devastated by now?

Jane was sitting next to her now, and had pulled out an orange from the depths of her knapsack. She peeled it in silence and Lizzy checked for text messages on her phone. Jane bumped her knee against hers. "What are you doing this weekend? Maybe you can come with us. We'll have a little picnic or something, swim in the creek."

Elizabeth glanced over her shoulder, at the murky sheet of brown water several feet away, wedged between a dotting of green trees. She turned back with a grin, "Sweetie, they found a body in there last summer."

"That's a _lie_," Jane couldn't stifle her own snort.

"Well, they found _syringes_."

"Fine, no swimming in the creek. Just come with us," her sister coaxed; she leaned forward and gave Lizzy half of the orange. "Get to know Brian a little more."

_Maybe _you_ should get to know Brian a little more_. Lizzy silenced her own thoughts. Jane was finally dating again. This was a good thing; anything to get over Charlie, really. Progress was progress. But that weekend wouldn't work out.

"I can't this weekend," said Lizzy simply. She divided the orange into quarters and popped a piece into her mouth. Jane waited for an explanation, lips pursed primly. This was how it was between them lately; this thin, building layer of unaddressed tension.

"Got some hot date?" joked Jane, trying to poke holes into it. She wasn't smiling.

Elizabeth laughed because she had to. "_No_. I'm just... meeting with friends. Dinner party thing."

"Maggie?" Jane guessed.

"Yeah."

_Now_ she felt awful. Particular lies felt awful. She wanted to go home and shower, but that could have been the filth and grime she had accumulated within the last three and a half hours.

For a split second, she considered telling Jane about Will Darcy. About _everything_ that had happened since Rosings. Her mouth opened and she tilted her face upward, her stomach twisting with nervous energy. Jane was staring out in front of her, looking and not looking, lost in thought. Sometimes Lizzy forgot just how _pretty_ she was, with her cute upturned nose and her high cheekbones.

But then Jane sighed and slipped her water bottle back, shaking it into her bag. "So," she slapped Lizzy's arm softly, grinning—forced. "Another fifteen minutes and we'll turn back. I promise!"

Lizzy rested her chin in the heel of her hand and nodded supportively. She let herself smile, "You got it."

* * *

**A/N:** Confession: I secretly like torturing you guys. Oops.


	20. Pemberley

**A/N:** Pfft, I don't torture you that much! Exhibit A.

* * *

Will Darcy thought it was too nice out for him to be so depressed. It was deceptively beautiful outside; the perfect May afternoon sky was streaked with pinks and violets, the sun ablaze. He had watched many, _many_ sunsets out on this porch since his childhood. The only thing missing from the wide manicured green front lawn was a sycamore tree. But that hadn't been there for awhile now—a thunderstorm had snapped it open fifteen years ago.

He remembered watching it as a boy, mouth wide open, before his mother had tugged him away. But for a few minutes, he had watched flames devour the splintered branches, mesmerized. _The wonders of nature_. Will could recall his dad's voice perfectly.

Someone rapped on the doorframe and Will glanced over his shoulder.

Nan Reynolds poked her head out beyond the screen door. Her apron was still on. "Kiddo, what are you doing out here all by yourself?"

"Thinking," he responded stupidly. Darcy looked out beyond the porch again, his fingers tightening over the iron-wrought rail. _She's not going to come._

Nan joined him, sighing. She had terrible posture, and her shoulders sagged; she seemed shorter than usual standing next to him. Then again, she had been cooking all afternoon. Will nudged her. "We're working you too hard."

"You little bastards," Nan grunted, but her brown eyes twinkled. "Georgie's been helping me cook, don't worry yourself. _Charlie_ is, too! He cooks. You never mentioned that."

"That's because he _doesn't_ cook," said Will dryly. "You're gonna have to point out to me what he's touched."

Nan chuckled. Will smiled back and she cupped his chin. "I'm so happy you kids are home. Keep an old woman company." Her voice quavered a bit, but he knew she wouldn't cry in front of him. He was about to respond when Nan sniffed loudly and took a step back. She smoothed her apron, tying it behind her waist again. "By the way, you have a guest in the drawing room." She looked up and smiled wryly, "A _pretty_ one."

Darcy's mouth opened and no sound came out. Nan grinned and propped the door open for him.

Elizabeth was standing in the drawing room, a pair of aviator sunglasses propped over her long curly dark hair. She _did_ look pretty. She wore a purple sundress, with coral flowers and deep green vines—a denim jacket too, and black lace-ups. She was staring at the portraits on the mantelpiece and her thumb brushed against the edge of an ornate frame. Lizzy quickly pulled her hand away, as if she were afraid of breaking something.

"Lizzy?"

The girl turned her head and her green eyes widened in surprise before she smiled slowly at him. "Hey! I was just," her hand flopped uselessly back towards the photographs, "watching your climb into _adulthood_. You scowled when you were a little boy, too."

Will shrugged. He shouldered one of her bags, a worn canvas rucksack. Lizzy held onto her purse. "Did you have any trouble finding the place?" he asked her.

"Nope," said Lizzy. "GPS is kind of a godsend these days. Plus, everybody in town knows who you are. I just had to say the word _Pemberley _down the street at the gas station," her mouth stretched into a wide smile. "Everybody knows this estate; I've heard everything now."

"Nothing bad, I hope," joked Will.

"Just that the house was built in 1892, has been through about thirteen upscale renovations and apparently some guy got shot on the back lawn during a property dispute," Lizzy started to walk with him as he led her out towards the staircase. "That true?"

Will turned. He was standing on the first step, with Lizzy looking up at him from the landing. The entire foyer was lit with fading sunlight, and it picked out the auburn hues in her hair. For a second, he forgot that she had asked him a question, until she prompted him again. "Yes, yes, but _no_ to the man who was shot. We had Daniel Saxbury go streaking in our driveway once; he got arrested. It was the town highlight for about a week," Darcy explained with a grin.

Lizzy was laughing, "_No_."

"Yes!" Darcy insisted. "Have you met Nan?"

"Yeah, she called me a goose."

"She likes you."

"Oh," Lizzy scrunched her brow, clearly still puzzled. "Is she your housekeeper?"

"Kind of," Will shrugged. He turned back towards the stairs, taking two at a time, and Elizabeth tried to keep up. "Nan helped raise us. She cooked and cleaned and kept us out of trouble." Will had stopped momentarily, as if his steps coincided with his thoughts. "She's family."

She followed him in silence as he walked down the long corridor, taking it all in at once. The expansive polished wood floors and the old, antique paintings of ancestors whose eyes seemed to follow her; she felt like she was in an episode of _Scooby Doo_. A lot of the men were handsome, hard-eyed and mustached, in navy uniforms and elaborate pins. Lizzy looked at Darcy's back; he was fiddling with the lock of the guest room. A military family—she would have never guessed.

After they had dropped off her luggage, Elizabeth was led into the kitchen. Georgie had her long black plait tied back in a French braid, pretty as ever in a paisley white dress. She hugged Lizzy the minute she saw her, and couldn't stop the smile that broke out on her face. "I'm so happy you're here!"

Lizzy tensed up for a moment and then relaxed, laughing. "Um, I was expecting a party. I even brought wine!" she shoved the gift bag into Georgie's hands. The younger girl made an approving noise in the back of her throat and examined the label. "Seriously, where is everybody? Why do I feel like the only guest?"

"Because you are," said Georgiana calmly. "My birthday party was yesterday, on a Saturday, when everybody was home."

Lizzy's mouth opened, shocked; she spun around to look at Will, but he was already nose-deep in the fridge, scouring the shelves for something they probably didn't even need. "Well, did I miss _that_?" she sputtered, confused.

"Of course not," laughed Georgie. "It wasn't really a _party_ party, just some girlfriends from college. But I always celebrate with my family on the actual day and I thought it would be nice to have you here for the real deal."

"That's so cute," Lizzy said miserably. "Stop it. Happy birthday."

"Thanks!" she giggled, delighted.

"I left your gift in my suitcase. Remind me to get it later?"

In the dining room, Lizzy spotted a familiar redhaired man in front of the cabinets, helping Nan pull out the fine china. Charlie spun around to stack dishes and nearly dropped the plate he was holding. "Lizzy!" he said, and an expression of panic crossed his face before he hid it with a smile. "Wow, hi."

"Hi," Lizzy smiled. "How are you?"

"Fine, fine. You?"

"Good, thanks."

He didn't look fine. Charlie looked skinnier and _exhausted_. She had never seen those purplish-blue shadows beneath his eyes before. He looked into the plate, licked his lips, and set it down quickly; then he creased his brow, as if he had just forgotten what he had been doing. Nan elbowed him and tilted her chin towards the silverware. "Make _haste_, child."

Dinner was absolutely delicious and Lizzy fell head over heels in love with the evening; everybody was so goddamn _happy_. Georgie couldn't wipe the smile off of her face and Will looked the most relaxed that she had ever seen him, easy humored and quick to top a glass when somebody's wine dwindled. Nan sat at the head of the table, and raised her glass for the first toast.

"To Georgiana," she said slowly, her dark brown eyes lighting up with pride, "the sweetest girl I know. Lots of health and endless happiness to you, honey girl. Happy 20th."

"Thank you," Georgie blew a kiss across the table.

Charlie raised the second toast, quipped about an inside joke and then an unfinished game of _Halo_ he swore she had cheated on. They all laughed and clinked glasses and something inside Lizzy tugged for Charlie; she wanted to dislike him but she couldn't. He looked so broken and _unhappy_. That seemed to be the last time he spoke all evening, except when somebody asked him to pass the potato salad. The rest of the time, he just stared down at the table and scattered untouched peas across his plate.

"What's up with him?" Lizzy asked Georgie after they had cleared the table.

They were in an empty kitchen, and Georgie was scrubbing plates with a dishcloth, swatting Lizzy away each time she tried to help. "Charlie's been working himself to the bone. I haven't seen him in months." Georgie's voice dipped low and Lizzy moved in closer, "Will told me that he's compensating for the client he lost in Zurich."

"He did?"

"Yeah. Charlie was constantly late to business meetings; blew off important associates. Will thinks he was depressed. Still looks it, though, doesn't he? I don't know what's up with him."

Lizzy thought of Jane, pursed her lips and said nothing.

After they had had dessert, after Georgie had blown out her birthday candles and Nan made sweet tea and they all scurried off to their respective rooms for the evening, Elizabeth stared at the ceiling and thought about her sister. Guilt consumed her again; what would she say if she knew she was here? What would she say if she knew that she had seen _Charlie_? Lizzy reached over and flicked on the lamp.

She was wide awake—caffeinated tea had not been the best of ideas.

Exploring was her best bet.

The Pemberley estate was massive, and she had known it the second she pulled into the looping driveway that curved around a huge rustic fountain plunked dead center in greenest of green lawns. Everything was white and marble and simply too beautiful to tear your eyes away from; it seemed more like a southern plantation, nestled under a canopy of interweaving trees.

Lizzy padded downstairs barefoot, feeling around the walls and squinting into the darkness. It was a little too drafty, and she regretted not pulling a hoodie over her t-shirt and gym shorts.

In the west wing of the estate, two double French doors opened up to an indoor pool. Elizabeth stood in the doorway, amazed, and wondered what it would have been like to grow up in such a place. She took two steps in and watched the glassy surface cast blue shadows that danced and rippled on the sloped ceiling, interrupted by two inky black skylights.

There was a figure sitting at the edge. Darcy's back was to her, his head lowered; he must have been reading.

Lizzy lingered.

Will was quick to look over his shoulder. He did a double take and closed his book, surprised. "Hello."

"Hi."

She joined him and took a seat, dipping her legs into the water. Lizzy shuddered instantly, laughing, "Did _not_ anticipate it being that cold."

"You'll get used to it," Will smiled. "Can't sleep?" She shook her head no and he looked out across the pool. "Yeah, neither can I. Actually, I always have trouble sleeping here. It's weird."

"Mm," said Lizzy, watching her toes curl beneath the water. "Was it scary as a kid?" Darcy glanced at her, confused, and she grinned, "Come on. By night, Pemberley _so_ has that haunted house feel. It's not cobwebby, but it's massive. And those portraits in the hall? You're just missing a suit of armor."

Darcy smiled slow and chuckled. "I guess you're right."

"I _am_ right," she insisted. "But it is beautiful here."

He looked proud then, not arrogant, but pleased that she thought so. They were both quiet for a stretch of minutes, and Lizzy closed her eyes, moving her feet back and forth. She pointed her toes and lifted her legs, as if practicing ballet. When she looked back at Darcy, he had opened his book again, revisiting a page.

"Thank you for the letter," Lizzy said quietly.

Will looked up and his blue eyes scanned her face. He looked grave for a moment, lines forming in his face where they hadn't before. Finally he said, "I hope you understand now."

"I do. I'm sorry for misjudging you."

"I'm sorry for being such a prick," Will replied.

Elizabeth laughed and extended her hand. He shook it and smiled.

For all the insomnia-riddled nights she had spent _pouring_ over what would happen on the off chance that they would meet again, Lizzy was grateful for how seamless this was going. She leaned back on her hands and looked down at the reflective surface of the water, watching a ripple expand and meld into a bigger circle.

"I'm really happy that you're here," said Will softly. She looked at him, struck by the sincerity on his face.

Lizzy's brow crinkled. Without another thought, she leaned forward and fit her lips against his. It was tentative at first, an awkward but simple press of lips. Will turned his face to hers and they shared breaths for a moment, slow and innocent. Then he pulled her close and deepened the kiss, his mouth open and vulnerable. Lizzy rose up on her knees and slipped her tongue past his bottom lip, one hand gripping his t-shirt by the fistful while the other moved to palm the back of his neck.

He still tasted the same and exhilaration and panic filled her, but she was willing to temporarily overlook the latter. Her stomach twisted and felt queasy and her fingertips thrummed with nervous energy. Darcy pulled back after a couple of minutes; his thumb brushed over the edge of her mouth.

"Hi," murmured Lizzy, not recognizing her own voice for a moment. Will seemed lost for words, and she suddenly grinned, emboldened. "I wonder what would happen if I pushed you into the pool."

His smile twisted into a smirk. "Please. My reflexes are kind of unparalleled—_whoa!_"

The splash was jarringly loud. When Will finally bobbed up to the surface, coughing and sputtering, Lizzy could barely breathe. She was giggling hysterically and wiped the tears in her eyes. "So _easy_!"

Will stood up, immersed in the water waist-down. He mopped the dark hair away from his eyes and Lizzy took the moment to admire the wet black t-shirt clinging to his broad shoulders and nice chest. "Yeah, keep laughing!" he insisted sarcastically.

"I will!" grinned Elizabeth, self-satisfied. She glanced over her shoulder for a moment, hunting for a towel, when she felt a hand curl around her ankle. "_No_. No! You wouldn't _dare_—Will! _Shit!_"

Lizzy fell in with a scream, and water sprayed along the edge of the pool where she had been calmly sitting moments before. Will, try as he might, could not stop laughing.


	21. What You Know

Charlie's hair looked like someone had set it ablaze. It would have made her laugh, had she not been sobered up by the grave expression on his face. He was standing outside on the patio, his pale arms crossed tightly over his chest as he took in the sunrise. Elizabeth slid open the screen door and joined him. He acknowledged her presence with a short "Good morning" and a smile, and Lizzy did the same. She leaned her mug of coffee on the deck railing and glanced out towards the property.

The Pemberley estate, for all its grandiose beauty, was overgrown with weeds and shrubbery out back. A recent storm had torn a hole from the roof of the white picket veranda across the backyard, debris scattered among the grass. Nan had been the only person keeping up the house in the last few months—quite a chore for a woman burdened with rheumatism.

"Did you sleep well?" asked Charlie, always polite.

Lizzy nodded. "And you?"

"Yes, thank you."

A heavy silence fell between them, with Lizzy watching him out of the corner of her eye. Charlie sensed her attentions and laughed uneasily; he gripped the railing and leaned back, stretching his forearms. "Oh man," he exhaled through his nostrils. "Reading me like a book, you are. You must hate me."

She tilted her head and frowned. "I could never hate you, Charlie. I kind of hate what _happened_ but it's not really in my hands. Or much of my business."

He licked his lips, hesitated, and then asked, "How's Jane?"

Lizzy chose her words carefully. "Good. Busy with work."

Charlie nodded. "Is there—is she..." The words seemed to die on his lips and Lizzy felt an overwhelming impulse to swath Charles Bingley in a blanket, pluck him down in front of the kitchen table and shove a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of his face. He laughed nervously again and ran his fingers through his hair, causing ginger tufts to stand on end.

"You OK?" Lizzy asked him quietly.

Charlie opened his mouth, hesitated, and shut it again. "Yeah," he smiled at her, "I'm always OK. How have you been?"

"Oh you know, ambling on and all that. You must have been surprised to see me here."

"Not really," Charlie admitted, smiling. "I knew you would be here. Will filled me in on what happened at Georgie's gig in New York. I'm glad you guys are friends now. At least certain amends have been made." There was a tinge of regret coloring his words, and Lizzy looked up at him thoughtfully. "He's a pain in the ass, but he's a very good guy."

"So I've heard," sighed Elizabeth.

"I gave him hell about a month back," Charlie started to explain. He hopped up to sit on the railing, his sneakers hitting the wooden planks. Lizzy leaned her back against the rail and took a sip of coffee, listening. "We saw each other again when I came back from Zurich; he visited me in the city for dinner and we got into a fight. I punched him in the mouth."

She nearly snorted into her coffee, coughing, "What?"

"I did!" he looked absurdly proud of himself, and they both laughed at it.

"He never told me that," said Lizzy, aghast.

"Probably too proud to mention it."

"Yeah, it's a common issue with him," she smirked, moving her index finger around the rim of her cup.

"He didn't hit me back," Charlie's voice dropped, and he rubbed his neck. "I think that's what made me feel worse about it. Will could have easily done it, and he didn't. And then I realized that _I_ was the one who lost Jane. The decision was mine to make. Choices don't rest on your friend's shoulders."

"But sometimes they're influenced by them."

He shook his head, "No, if I were more of a man, I wouldn't have let _anybody's_ opinion sway me. I wasn't confident enough in the situation and I acted like an idiot. And then I refused to take responsibility for it and lashed out at my best friend. Big fuckin' hero I am."

Lizzy couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of pity for Will. He had been viciously chewed out by her in that hotel room, only to return a month later from California to get a split lip from Charlie. She winced, laughing despite herself. "Was he bleeding?"

"Yep."

"Well. You know how it goes: live and learn," said Lizzy with a smirk. She took another sip of coffee.

Charlie looked at her for a little while but said nothing. She sensed all the unspoken questions he wanted to ask, lodged like blanks in the barrel of a gun._ Is she happy? Is she seeing someone? I still miss her. God, I miss her._ But Charlie swallowed and looked out past the yard to the rising sun again, at the amber light spilling out onto the pavement. Pride was indeed a very powerful thing. His voice was a quiet drawl when he finally answered her: "So they say."

They were both quiet for a couple of minutes, the silence punctuated by pleasant birdsong. Charlie asked if anybody else was up and Lizzy shook her head no. Then she caught him staring at the sweatshirt, at the navy blue Columbia emblem stitched across her chest. His gray eyes caught hers and a slow, knowing smile stretched across his mouth.

Lizzy could feel her face growing red and looked down quickly. She feigned interest with her empty coffee cup. _Idiot girl_. She should have known better than to step out onto the patio wearing Will's college hoodie.

Not that anything had really happened.

Will had helped her out of the pool last night, sopping wet and bitter as he belly laughed and she threatened to push him in again. She had followed him into his bedroom, still wearing her clinging damp clothes and a scowl. "Wow, what a bad sport," Darcy had scoffed, smirking as he handed her a towel. She yanked it roughly from his hands.

Lizzy had changed in his bathroom, into one of his t-shirts and a pair of Georgiana's yoga capris they had filched from her latest batch of laundry in the dryer. And when she stepped back out into his bedroom, barefoot and quiet, Darcy was still changing; she caught another glimpse of broad shoulders and spine dimples before he slipped his shirt back on, and Lizzy thought it was a pity that he had been so quick about it.

"You look freezing," Darcy murmured, tossing her his college sweatshirt. She pulled it on and he chuckled, moving scattered strands of hair out of her face. "Sorry. You still cold?"

"No. I'm good," Lizzy muttered, hugging her arms to herself. "Thanks."

All had been decidedly awkward after that, and Lizzy retreated into herself, embarrassed and shy. She spent the rest of the night not sleeping but staring up at the ceiling again and wondering if she had acted like too much of a bitch, had made too much of a fuss. She was being _girly_ again and obsessive, and it was a version of herself that she didn't like at all but was pretty powerless to fight against.

In the end, Lizzy was stubborn and hadn't wanted to read into what she was feeling; she was quick to turn off her light and struggled to fall back asleep.

Charlie thankfully wasn't staring at her anymore, but God only knew what he was assuming. Her bright pink cheeks weren't helping her at all. Charlie hopped off of the railing and stretched for a moment, before saying, "I'm gonna go fix myself some cereal for breakfast. I've known the Darcies long enough to earn kitchen-raiding rights."

"I'm sure you have," Lizzy smiled.

"You want anything?" he asked kindly.

"No thanks. Coffee's fine for now. I'm just gonna go back to my room and change and whatnot. Freshen up," Elizabeth explained, perhaps a little too eagerly. Charlie smiled and said a quick goodbye, letting himself back in through the screen door.

Back in her room, Lizzy changed quickly into her favorite jeans and a green v-neck. She delicately folded his sweatshirt and the rest of the clothes-on-loan into a neat pile, then walked down the corridor and came to a standstill in front of his bedroom door. She glanced over her shoulder at the clock, an antique ivory fixture wedged between two paintings._ 8:26_. Was it too early? Lizzy craned her neck and listened for footsteps and shuffling around.

She chanced it, raised her fist and knocked.

Darcy opened it almost immediately. He had been up for awhile. He smiled at her and moved aside to let her pass through. "Morning."

"Um, here," Lizzy shoved the pile of clothes into his hands, and Will looked at it for a moment with surprise before realizing what she had just handed over. "It's what I borrowed last night," she explained hastily, hating how breathless and awkward she sounded.

"Right. Thank you."

"No, thank you. You know, 'cause it... kept me dry and warm. And stuff." Lizzy cringed internally. _I want these floorboards to split open and swallow me whole_.

"Yeah. No problem." Will rubbed the back of his neck.

"OK."

She stood in his doorway for awhile before he asked, "Are you all right? You seemed put off. If you're upset about the pool thing, I apologize—"

"No," Lizzy cut him off, shaking her head. "No, no, it's not that. I just... Will, I'm not good at this."

"Good at _what_?" Will chortled, and she finally stepped past him and stalked into the bedroom. He shut the door behind her, startled for a moment. "Are you—are you _pacing_? That's cute."

"_This_," Lizzy stopped and gestured emphatically, encircling the air with her hands. She opened her mouth but no coherent words came out. "Oh God, I must look like an idiot."

"I would never think that about you," said Will sincerely. "I mean, you do have your slow moments but all in all, I think you're an incredibly bright girl." He blanched, "Woman."

"_Slow?_"

"That's not what I..." Darcy's shoulders dropped and he sighed. "Fuck."

"You're just as bad at this as I am," Lizzy was laughing.

"It's the blind leading the blind."

Lizzy chewed on her bottom lip, gauging his reaction. "I'm just trying to understand. You know? I know we decided on friendship. Or something. Right?"

"Yeah," said Will quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. "_Something_ being the operative word here," he quickly muttered.

"But..." She closed her mouth with a click. "Yeah."

Will leaned against the door. Lizzy sank miserably to the corner of his bed, sitting on the edge of his mattress. "So um, in the current vein of this _bygones-be-bygones_ and _let's-start-on-the-right-foot_ new blossoming friendship shit," she paused to take a breath, "it's probably best that we pretend I didn't kiss you yesterday. Which was pretty inappropriate."

"_So_ inappropriate," Darcy agreed, crossing the room.

"Wildly, wildly inappropriate," Lizzy shook her head gravely.

"You were just completely out of line there." Will was standing in front of her now, his fingers cupping her chin.

"I mean I'm not even attracted to you," she mumbled, staring at his mouth.

"Clearly," he deadpanned, then bent forward to kiss her.

By the time Nan bellowed that breakfast was ready and on the table, five minutes had passed and Will's shirt was hanging over the headboard and Lizzy had to fish out her jeans from underneath the bed. Darcy sat back on the comforter and pulled his t-shirt back over his head, dejected. "Wow. This is what happens when I go back to living at home. I'm 16 again."

"Blame Nan!" Lizzy was laughing, trying to get her left leg in its corresponding pant leg. "Well, this is a sign from the universe. This is a very bad idea." She shook her hair out of its ruined ponytail and swept it back up again into a loose knot. "Friendship it is. Bygones _on_."

"Fuck the bygones," Will insisted. "What if we just don't have breakfast?"

"That's not suspicious _at all_." she muttered, grinning as she unfolded the cuffs of her jeans.

"What are you so afraid of?" he mused.

Lizzy stood up quickly, her green eyes intent on his face. _I'm afraid of falling for you_. "I don't want to miss out on those pancakes I've been hearing so much about," she put her hands on her hips. "You Darcies keep feeding me good food; I'm starting to get spoiled here."

Darcy gave her a quirked smile and Elizabeth was struck again by how much she really liked him. He got up and pressed a quick kiss to the side of her mouth, their hands interweaving for a brief moment. Lizzy paused to brush his hair back and then walked out into the hall, his footfalls close behind her. It was comforting.

* * *

After breakfast, Lizzy was finally able to give Georgie her belated birthday gift, and the younger girl eagerly tore open the black velvet box with as much unbridled enthusiasm as a kid on Christmas morning. It was a white gold locket around a wire chain, with the name _Georgiana_ etched in tiny, elegant cursive. She threw her arms over her neck. "It's so _pretty_! Thank you, Lizzy."

"Of course," she returned the hug, pleased. "I'm really happy that you like it."

"_Duh_. Where did you get it?" Georgie asked, and Lizzy helped her with the clasp.

"My friend, Maggie King. Her niece designs her own jewelry; she has a shop out in Bristol and she does her own engraving, too."

"Well, it's beautiful."

"Happy birthday."

"It definitely is."

Lizzy rose to get up from the dining room table, but Georgie caught her hand. "Stay another day."

"I can't! I took off for Monday only. I can't have another sub tomorrow, too."

"Stop being so responsible."

"I'm _really_ not," Elizabeth insisted, laughing shortly. "Take my word for it."

Georgie sighed and got up, pushing in her chair. "I'm gonna put the kettle on. Want some tea?"

"Sure."

She left and Lizzy stood before the great bay window, staring out into the wide back lawn. Will was slowly trying to repair the damage to the veranda and Charlie was helping him. They had already nailed in the wooden foundation in the last two hours; the smell of sawdust was still pungent in the air. All that was left was to do was a quick paint job. Lizzy watched as Charlie dipped a roller in white paint and deliberately tracked it over Will's black t-shirt. He jumped back with a laugh and ducked out of the way before Will could catch him—Lizzy giggled with them.

She felt so... _peaceful_ here. Who'd have known?

On the dining room table, her phone buzzed within her purse. Lizzy turned back and pulled it out of one of the pockets. The screen read _Jane_. She hesitated before answering it. "Hi, hon. What's up?"

Her sister's voice was panicky and breathless, and Lizzy instinctively felt a spike of dread run up her spine. "_Lydia's gone_."


	22. When It Rains, It Pours

Darcy watched her from where he stood, leaning against the doorframe. He still had on his muddied work boots, and the back of his neck was damp with sweat. Lizzy looked over her shoulder at him and her mouth turned up in a crooked smile. "You have white paint all over your jeans."

"Charlie—that bastard."

She chuckled and focused back on her suitcase, tucking a pair of flats into a side pocket. Then she zipped the bag up and wheeled it onto the floor.

"Let me help you look for her." Will's voice was low.

Elizabeth shook her head and crossed her arms tightly over her body. For a moment, he thought she might be shivering. "No, no. Lydia's just pulling a stunt. She's pissing Mom off because they had a huge row. It's happened before. I mean... when she was thirteen."

Darcy's mouth settled into a grim line. And when she met his eye, the last few chords of reserve within her stretched and snapped; Lizzy began to cry. He was quick to pull her into his arms, and his hands moved in wide, comforting circles on her back. She feared that she couldn't bring herself to let him go. Will's lips brushed against her hair, "She's gonna be OK. You know that, right?"

"No," Lizzy mumbled into his shoulder.

Jane, bless her, had struggled to work the panic out of her voice over the phone; she was all business. For once in her life, it was Lizzy who was brimming with emotion and hysteria. Her little sister—her stupid, _stupid_ baby sister. Lydia had been staying with her parents for the last two weeks, throwing one argument after the next. Her dad had phoned her just the other day, sulking from his den: "_I can't handle this much estrogen in the house, Lizzy. Your mother and Lydia have been at each other's throats since that girl got home. They fight about her future and how short her skirts are and everything in between. I am going to take a sabbatical!_"

"Dad, it's only a sabbatical if you'll be returning."

"_Oh. Then I'm moving out._"

Lydia had left to meet some friends at a diner and had not been seen for over 48 hours now. When Jane called, they had just found her car, a tan 1997 Corolla, parked and empty outside of the Matlock Park. Her cell phone, keys and wallet lay deserted on the passenger seat; not a trace of the girl to be seen.

"I feel sick," Elizabeth smiled, mirthless. She was shaking. Will put his hands on her shoulders and drew back, searching her face.

"I'm gonna drive you back."

"_No_," she said firmly. "No. No."

"But—"

"Absolutely not."

His arms dropped and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know, if stubbornness were an Olympic event—"

"I'd take the gold," Lizzy smiled wide. "Yeah, I know. I'm the friggin' Michael Phelps of standing my ground. But I'm kinda proud of it, to tell you the truth. I'm a pain in the ass."

Will was staring at her now, blue eyes intent on her face. Something fleeting crossed his features, a quick twist of his lips. Lizzy wanted to know what he was thinking. They were eerily (and frustratingly) similar that way—neither wanted to directly voice what they were feeling about the other. ...Unless inebriated. For a moment, Lizzy wondered comically if they would shake hands at the end of this all.

_What is this?_

But then Darcy walked her out and spent fifteen minutes outside with her in the driveway, saying goodbyes that were more than goodbyes. And when Lizzy drove away and watched his shape grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, she felt a needle-sharp ache in her chest and thought for a brief and terrifying moment that she may never see him again.

* * *

Georgie was entirely displeased with her brother, and decided to spout every type of obscenity she could think of if only for the sole purpose of getting him to stop _moving_. "You're an idiot!" she argued. "It is _pouring_ rain; at least wait until the morning!"

"No, I have to go," Will insisted, zipping up his jacket. He pulled the hood up and searched through the coat closet, reaching his hand over the top shelf. "Shit. No umbrellas. That sucks."

"But she explicitly told you not to!" said Georgie. "Sure, in different weather, I'd be all for you ignoring that because it's kind of romantic, but I fear thunderstorms like it's my goddamn occupation so _please do not go!_" She finished with an emphatic foot stomp. "The bypass floods like a bitch when it rains. You _know_ that."

"So I'll hydroplane a bit. I'm an incredibly skilled driver."

"Arrogant _ass_."

"Yeah, I know. It's something I'm working on," smirked Will, half-serious.

"Georgiana, you've been using foul language _all_ evening," Nan said calmly from the dining room table, where she was practicing needlepoint. "I do still keep that swear jar above the mantle, you know. You now owe me $1.25."

Darcy smirked at his little sister, who glowered right back at him. "I'll be _fine_," he told her pointedly, then paused to drop a kiss on her forehead. "Listen to Nan. I gotta go; I gotta do _some_thing. Can't just stay here. I feel so useless."

Georgie slouched and mumbled, "Give her my love."

Will smiled at her. "Will do."

* * *

There were police cars parked outside of her parents' home. It was an unusual and alarming sighting in the remote _cul-de-sac_ off of Longbourn Court. Elizabeth drew her keys out of the ignition, in no mood to do anything other than slink underneath her comforter and fall asleep for three days. But she got out of the car and walked up the garden pathway, around the ceramic gnomes and the orchids.

Her parents were outside on the patio, talking in hushed tones to two officers. The taller of the two scribbled into a notepad, nodding. Her mother looked exhausted; Tess hadn't even bothered to put on make-up, which was a rarity and a half. Her eyes were red and puffy, and John was rubbing her shoulders. Lizzy greeted them quietly from the doorway.

Jane was in the kitchen, washing dishes. She gasped and hugged Lizzy as soon as she saw her, getting soap suds all over her shirt and onto the floor. "I'm _so_ glad you're here." She touched her sister's cheek and her smile wavered. "I'm sure Maggie understood why. Family is family."

"I ...wasn't visiting Maggie," Lizzy lowered her eyes.

Jane's brows pulled together. "Then where were you?"

_Fuck it_. She took in a quick breath. "Connecticut."

"What's in Connecticut?"

"Will Darcy," muttered Elizabeth. She turned her phone over and over in her hands. "His sister Georgie, and Charlie Bingley. I think Joe Lieberman's a senator there, too. But I didn't get to see him."

Jane's lips were pursed. She pulled away from her sister. "You lied?"

It hurt more than she had anticipated, mostly because it didn't _sound_ like a furious accusation. It sounded like the response she would receive if she had just told one of her Kindergarteners that the tooth fairy didn't exist. Lizzy looked up at Jane and said meekly, "Yeah."

"But _why_?"

"Because I'm an asshole! And I like Will Darcy. God, I like him _so_ much that I'm not even _sure_ that it's just restricted to liking. _Ugh_. Feelings!" Lizzy raised her fists, mildly hysterical. "And I didn't want to bring up Charlie because you've already moved on and I don't want to fuck it up for you, even though I think Brian's a massive turd—sorry, he just _is_. And now our little sister is missing, and I spent the_entire_ drive home daydreaming up the _worst_ possible scenarios and they all involve rape and murder and I kind of feel like throwing up." Concluding her speech, Lizzy pressed her lips together and felt her face grow hot. Her green eyes were wide now, and she stood gauging her sister's reaction.

Jane made an imperceptible nose in the back of her throat somewhere, as if she couldn't decide just what combination of words should be uttered and in what order. After what seemed like several minutes, she inhaled evenly and said, "Elizabeth. You know you can tell me anything. I'm here for you—"

"God, would you _stop_ it?" Lizzy cried, and Jane recoiled in shock. "_Stop_ being so understanding! Be furious with me!"

"Do you really think Brian's a turd?" Jane suddenly demanded, hands on her hips.

"The man wears _boat_ shoes, Jane. He doesn't even own a boat!"

"How did Charlie look?" asked Jane quickly.

"Like a suicidal manic depressive."

Something flickered on her face, like mildly sadistic glee tinged with unhappiness. Then she resumed her interrogation: "And how long has this business with Darcy been going on?"

"Oh. He was at the wedding in Santa Barbara," Lizzy's shoulders dropped. "Um, we pretty much almost had sex. Well actually, that's happened like twice now; the universe clearly does _not_ want me to get laid," she muttered, scratching her nose. "But yeah, I caught the feelings after. Because he wrote a redeeming _oh-but-I'm-_not_-actually-a-dick!_ letter. Among other stuff. Stop _staring_ at me!"

"I don't—I don't even know what to say to you! I don't know where to _begin_," Jane voice was raised now.

"You could always slap my face," encouraged Elizabeth.

"Brian does _not_ wear boat shoes," said her sister hotly, pointing a finger under her nose.

"Oh, sweet Jesus, really? This is what we're focusing on right now."

"And you hate Will Darcy, remember?" Jane reminded her.

"No, I don't. He's kind of wonderful," muttered Lizzy sheepishly. "I made a colossal error in judgment. I haven't felt this way about a guy since Steven. ...Which is probably why I keep pushing him away because look how brilliantly _that_ worked out!"

"You're terrified."

"I am fucking terrified."

Jane covered her face with her hands and then fixed her eyes back on her sister. "Don't you _ever_ lie to me again—!"

"I know, I know, I know—"

"Ever!" shouted Jane. "Or I will kick your ass. They had me take a self-defense seminar at work. You _know_ I have a clean right hook. And I kicked _right_ through that wooden board! You were there!"

Lizzy bit her lower lip to stop the automatic smart-alecky comeback that threatened to burst through. "I know. Janie, I'm so sorry I kept things from you."

Jane's shoulders sagged, and her voice grew quiet. "Charlie was really that bad?"

"He misses you," replied Lizzy. "I've never seen him so cut up."

She folded her arms and looked out past the glass patio door; their parents were still speaking with the police officers, completely oblivious to their argument one room away. "Strange," she suddenly said, almost whimsically.

Elizabeth frowned at her, "What is?"

"Life," Jane sighed.

It was then that Lizzy's phone rang. '**GREG**' flickered across the screen in big, black letters and she felt a massive twinge of irritation before hastily picking up. "Hi, this isn't really the best time, Wick—"

"_Hey_," Greg Wickham sounded breathless. "_Hi. ...Hey. I think I know where Lydia is._"

Elizabeth snapped her head up abruptly and stared right at Jane, who mouthed 'What is it?' and grimaced. She turned, "Tell me what's going on."


	23. Reunion: Part I

Greg Wickham felt shitty enough as it was. The blinds in the diner should have been fully closed and his coffee tasted watered down and bitter. Also, every time he tilted his head to the left, a wave of nausea seemed to roll up through his stomach and greet him like a lost friend. He raised the coffee mug to his lips and cursed his own stupidity.

The last evening had been a whirlwind of strangers, parties, one very brief trip to the ER and yet _another_ party that was more like a get-together with Becky's ex-girlfriend's cousin Sam. Greg's eyebrows knit together in confusion as he struggled to remember how he had gotten the invitation in the first place. _Who's Becky again?_ He felt grimy. Maybe he was a little too old to be chasing skirts and folding up scrawled phone numbers. This wasn't college, after all...

Beside him, a waitress winked and reached over the bar to fetch a dishrag. Greg's eyes lowered to the magnolia tattoo inked at the small of her back. The corner of his mouth lifted. Then again, there was no harm in having a little bit of fun. What was it that his uncle Jerry had written him from prison? Nobody got out of life alive—best to take it all lightly, then.

"More coffee, sweetie?"

"Definitely."

He didn't immediately register his name bitten out from over his shoulder until it was repeated. And in such a menacing, pretentious, uppity grumble that he _swore_ sounded familiar—

"Wickham."

"Yeah?" He turned left and felt his throat constrict, partly from nausea but also from shock. "Wow. ...It must be asswipe day."

In a matter of moments, Darcy had Wickham's collar by the fistful. His hair was matted down from the rain and dark circles rimmed his eyes. But he smiled when he said, "Greg, it's nice to see you. I need a favor."

"I need you to let go of my shirt, _buddy_." Will dropped his hand and Greg scowled, pride hurt, as he smoothed the creased fabric. "How did you find me?" he took a nonchalant sip of his coffee, but his old friend heard the tremor in his voice.

"You called again," said Darcy smoothly, taking his phone out from his front pocket. "You seemed a little worse for wear."

"How so?"

"Told me to eat shit and die."

Greg chuckled. "Now that part rings a bell. Did you want to catch up? Because there's a reason I ignore the odd phone call from you Darcies. You always seem to want something from me."

Darcy ignored his comment and pulled the chair out beside him, taking a seat. "I'm just glad that the address you gave me checked out. Seems you've been sitting in the same diner for twelve hours straight."

"He fell asleep in the booth back there," chuckled the waitress. "Do you want anything, hon?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Darcy nodded politely.

"I told you where I was," echoed Greg miserably. "I ..._told you where I was_."

"You sounded drunk."

"I was drunk."

"I changed my mind," said Will happily to the waitress, turning in his chair. "Could you just open the blinds all the way for me? Thanks very much. I like it bright and sunny."

"Sure thing," she grinned.

Greg groaned and cushioned his head on top of his forearms. "You bastard."

"Do you know where Lydia Bennet is?" asked Will.

"Who?"

"Lydia Bennet. Elizabeth's little sister. You mentioned her in the phone call. And then said something about Atlantic City."

"I have _got_ to stop drunk-dialing you. It's getting a little embarrassing on my behalf. Mostly I do it every couple of months just to emphasize the fact that I'm getting action and making a party out of life while_ you're_ stuck in courtrooms wearing really bad suits," Wickham explained matter-of-factly, sipping his coffee. He scrutinized his ex-friend's clothes. "Fucking awful shirt, bro."

"How do you know Lydia?" continued Darcy coolly.

"Mm," Greg set his coffee down, eyebrow cocked. "I swung by Elizabeth's apartment about a week ago. Lydia was sitting on the front steps, being bored and cute, which happens to be my favorite combination in a girl, so... yeah. I told her I was a friend of her sister's and then we just started hanging out."

"Why?" Darcy suddenly interrupted.

"Why what?"

"Why did you go to Elizabeth's apartment?"

"Oh." Greg shrugged and cracked his knuckles, growing weary of the conversation. "I dunno. Thought Lizzy might want to watch a DVD with me or something. But I moreso mean do other things with me while a movie was playing on in the _background_ but—_wow_, purple's an interesting color for your face, did I strike a nerve? You got a crush there, Darce?" Wickham seemed genuinely curious and he grinned. "That's adorable."

"Tell me the last time you saw Lydia."

"What's it to you?"

"Tell me, Greg."

Greg narrowed his eyes. "Why so interested, Will?"

"Well, let's just say that this girl's been missing for about 48 hours now and the Bennet family has _just_ gotten the police involved, so I can either dial 9-1-1 and make this very easy for myself or I can put Elizabeth on the phone and have you tell her where her sister happens to be. The decision's yours."

Will took a sadistic delight in watching the color drain from Greg's face and slid his Blackberry patiently across the countertop. "God. The _police_?"

"Yes."

Greg scowled, pushing off from the counter. "I _told_ her not to leave her shit in her car when I picked her up. That girl's an idiot. It's why I left her in AC to begin with. Fucking imbecile."

"You stranded her in AC."

Greg was sneering, livid now. "What a useless chick; I don't know what I was thinking. Too young to drink and gamble, she just whined and shopped a lot. With _my_ credit card, because she deviously left her wallet in her own car. Who _does_ that? She put out but I got really bored. I ditched her at the Tropicana."

"You stranded her without _money_ or _transportation_ in AC."

Wickham had already tuned him out. "It felt like I was fuckin' babysitting, man. Sometimes it's cute but it takes too much work. Kind of like when I was seeing your sister."

The chair legs scraped against the tiles and Darcy once again had Wickham's shirt collar clutched in his hands, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "Call Elizabeth right now."

Wickham didn't need very much convincing, though he did wrench out of Will's grip a second time, grimacing, while he scrolled through the contacts list. Lizzy picked up almost immediately and Greg shakily recounted what he had told Darcy minutes before. He told her their room number at the Tropicana and explained how Lydia had snuck out of her parents' house, driven off to Matlock Park and met him by the pond.

He ended the call without waiting for her response and slid the phone back across to Darcy.

"You're a coward."

Wickham was jittery and seemed to be rifling his pockets for something. "Leave me in peace already. My migraine's expanded tenfold since you showed up."

Darcy got up and pulled out his car keys. He waited for a moment before saying, "You did the responsible thing when you told her."

"Fuck off."

"Gladly."

"You know," Greg called out, just as the other man had turned towards the door, "You may be doing this whole _hero_ thing to win her heart, but I really don't think that you're Lizzy's type. Last time I talked to her, she told me that she _hated_ you. Called you a prick and everything." He fished a carton of smokes from his front pocket and fit a cigarette between his lips. "There's really no recovering from a hatred that potent, Will."

Darcy hesitated. He said nothing and then stepped out the door.

* * *

**A/N:** Yes, this a _very_ short update considering I've left y'all hanging for like two months now. But I'm writing Part II and I should have it up by Saturday morning; do not despair. As for the absence, there was never any planned hiatus. Real life kicked into full swing so writing took a backseat. I'm back in school now and I work part-time, too. Plus there's a boy in my life and some family squabbles and other responsibilities, so those are prime distractions. But I missed you guys! Thanks for sticking around.


	24. Reunion: Part II

**A/N:** Happy Thanksgiving! Here, have an update. (:

* * *

There was nothing good on the radio. Lizzy kept fiddling back and forth, from station to station, through the static Top 40 to the abundance of Pearl Jam on 104.5. Giving up, she settled to a slow crawl in bumper-to-bumper traffic in absolute silence. At the red light, she glanced at her sisters in the backseat.

Jane was staring out the window. She seemed calm, save for the small crinkle of concern between her eyebrows. Lydia was asleep with her head resting in Jane's lap. She was absently twisting tufts of her blonde hair into tiny braids. Lydia's makeup was caked; mascara stained her cheeks where she had been crying hours before. Her transparent black tights had several nicks and runs beneath a sequined skirt that was all-too-short and all-too-tight.

The police were no longer involved in the investigation, now that there was no investigation to speak of. It was closed as your standard textbook runaway, and Mrs. Bennet had just about fainted out of relief and then revived herself with unbridled anxiety, spasms and tirades. It was John who had encouraged and ultimately convinced his wife to stay home, to let her daughters pick up their missing fourth. This way, he would have enough time to calm her down.

Not that Theresa Bennet had the capacity to be calm, but at least he could throw a cup of chamomile tea and some Klonopin at the equation.

"You OK?"

Lizzy looked at Jane's reflection in her rearview mirror and gave a warm, comforting smile. "I'm great. You girls hungry? I think there's a Chipotle straight off the turnpike."

"_Carnitas burrito_," trilled Jane, grinning. Lydia snored softly and she looked down, smoothing her baby sister's hair back. "You would think she could have used the phone in the lobby or something. Could have spared us all heart attacks."

"Yeah well, she was hung-over and depressed. It's not a very logic-friendly combination," said Elizabeth dryly, flicking on her left turn signal. She changed lanes. "You know, if she's not gonna bother to have her cell phone on her, then I suggest we stick a GPS transmitter up her hooch and call it a day."

"_Lizzy_."

"I'm just saying."

Jane snorted, chuckling. "So... did you call Greg back?"

"No," Elizabeth mumbled darkly. "When I speak to that man again, it _won't_ be over the phone."

"Of course not. You'll just be berating him while your foot's planted up his ass. Maybe in public too, so his humiliation can be documented in front of an audience."

"Oh Janie, you know me _so_ well," Elizabeth mock-sniffled and placed her hand over her heart. Jane smiled broadly from the backseat. "But in all seriousness, I can't believe I let Lydia and _Greg_ happen, even for a nanosecond." Her lip curled in disgust. "Shit, I had such tunnel vision these last few weeks. That's what gets me. It all could have been prevented—"

"—if you weren't busy mooning over Will Darcy self-loathingly?" suggested Jane sweetly. She was smirking and Lizzy rolled her eyes in response. "Well, you must not blame yourself. Lydia has to take responsibility for her own actions."

"But you're still bitter—"

"—only at you not _telling_ me—"

Lizzy lifted her green eyes doubtfully at the rearview mirror.

"Seriously. I consider you my best friend, Lizzy, I think I'm entitled to all the hot juicy details. Missing out on that?" Jane pulled a frown. "God, that just _sucks_."

She couldn't help but smile. "Well, what do you wanna know?"

Jane smirked cheekily. "Good kisser?"

"Ugh, _great_ kisser." Lizzy sighed, coming to a stop at another intersection. "Just... hot damn. I am so sexually frustrated that it is just downright hell. I just want to climb him—"

"Yes OK, easy now, keep your seat dry, I was just asking."

Elizabeth tried to swipe at her from the driver's seat and Jane dodged it, giggling. Lydia opened her eyes blearily and nestled her face into Jane's knee. "You guys are disgusting," she mumbled.

"Hey there, Shitty Beauty," drawled Lizzy. "Let's get some food in you. How does Mexican sound?"

"Mmm."

Lizzy's eyes flickered back to Jane in the mirror, whose smile had faded. She had asked her a couple of questions about Charlie again on the way to Atlantic City, but had stayed tight-lipped on the subject ever since then. He was circulating her mind again, and it was cruel, but Lizzy was hopeful. Perhaps it was for the best.

* * *

It was decided that it was better that Lydia stay at Elizabeth's apartment for a little while to wait for the storm that was her mother to blow over and lose most of its thunderclouds. The girl dragged herself to Lizzy's bed, pulled the lilac comforter up and over her head and slept until 6 o'clock.

It was dark outside when she stumbled into the kitchen, comforter and all wound about her tiny frame; rain was pattering on the window outside. Lydia pulled out a chair in front of the island and sunk into it. Elizabeth stood across from her and put the kettle on. Jane was flipping through an issue of _Cosmopolitan_ at the kitchen table.

"Mom's on her way."

Lydia drew in a breath. "This is gonna be brutal."

"Sorry, kiddo." Lizzy tilted her head sympathetically. "Go wash the make-up off of your pretty face. Then come back in and I'll fix you a cup of tea. Peppermint still your favorite?"

She nodded miserably.

It was brutal. Full of loud, screaming arguments and lots of tears. But at the end of forty-five minutes or so, Lydia was pressed up against her mother's chest with her arms around her waist and Tess Bennet sniffled into her hair, "Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again!" and Lydia's profuse apologies echoed back in response.

They ordered pizza for dinner. The only missing Bennet was Mary, who had just started her first-year Fall 2011 semester in New York City, at the School of Visual Arts.

John looked around the apartment distastefully, his mouth pulling into a grimace. "Lizzy, did your apartment become shittier?"

She frowned and took a bite out of her cheese pizza before mopping away the grease with the back of her hand. Tess made a face and handed her a napkin, "Did you forget how to be hygienic?"

"You can't forget something you never learned," Jane said dryly, winking.

Lizzy put her slice back on the paper plate. "That's it. Get out. All of you bastards, out of my house." John began to chuckle and she turned to face him, "For your information, _Pops_, my apartment is a little barren because Charlotte took away most of the furnishings."

"Nice to know who had the domestic touch out of the two of you," John tutted regretfully.

"Is your coffee table an enormous stack of magazines?" her mother asked her in complete wide-eyed astonishment. "Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a coffee table? You put magazines _on_ the magazines? Magazines on magazines?"

Lizzy rolled her eyes. "Listen, I'll send you all invitations back after I visit IKEA half a dozen times, how about that?"

"You should marry a gay man," suggested Lydia. Her make-up had been scrubbed off, exposing a pale youthful, freckled face. She wore Lizzy's pink pajamas and a plaid robe, with her white-blonde hair secured back with a leopard clip. "He would do your decorating for free."

"And I would give him what in return?" Elizabeth arched an eyebrow. "I don't have a penis."

"I just remembered why I don't visit you more often, darling," Theresa muttered, pushing her plate further away. "Is there any way you can convince Charlotte to move back in with you? The apartment was considerably cleaner before she went off and got married."

"I know, right? Don't worry, I'm trying to get her to divorce Collins just for that purpose."

The rest of the evening was spent in the apartment, despite its barren uncleanliness. Tess fell asleep on her husband's shoulder as they sat on the sofa; he was watching CNN with half interest. Jane thoughtfully dug out a blanket from the linen closet.

She met her sister in the kitchen as she was scrubbing dishes. Lydia had Lizzy's computer open at the kitchen table, typing away. Elizabeth nodded her head back when Jane appeared, gesturing at Lydia. "Girlfriend's writing her dissertation—1,500 pages on _Not Fucking Up _and its sequel,_ Spiteful Acts of Rebellion_."

"I want to read it when you are finished," Jane announced. Lydia stuck her tongue out at her.

Jane began drying each plate with a dishrag, setting it neatly in a stack. "So, what are you going to do about Greg? I think it was wise not to mention him to the parents, but I still know you better than the type to let sleeping dogs lie."

"Well, when a method of payback arises, I'll jump on it. I'm not so good at making plans."

"Really, because I was planning on leaving a pipe bomb in his mailbox," Lydia chimed in. She looked pissed off and a tinge heartbroken, scowling from behind the monitor. She raised her head, "Seriously, I want to kick his ass into the next week."

"Well, if he's even a little smart, he's lying low for a little while."

"I wonder what made him call you," Jane mused. She took an apple from the fruit bowl and polished it with her sleeve. "A quick burst of guilty conscience?"

"Possibly," Elizabeth shrugged. "It was an incredibly dick move."

"I want him to walk into oncoming traffic," Lydia said bitterly.

"I'm pretty curious as to what his motives were," Jane admitted.

"I want to staple things to his face," continued Lydia.

"Honey, maybe you should go back to sleep," Lizzy encouraged. "We'll work on his punishment and flagging him down; you just get your energy back and rest up."

"I want to murder him and make it look like an accident."

Jane shrugged and took a bite out of her apple.

* * *

A month passed. And then another. Everybody moved forward. Jane broke up with Brian. Lizzy was overjoyed but hid it well, even as her sister insisted that she was "just _too_ busy with work to be in a relationship." Bullshit could be scented out from a mile away, but as long as Boatshoes Brian was snubbed out of the picture, she didn't particularly care. Working Charlie back in would be a trickier situation.

She wondered if he was back in Zürich, and considered asking Will.

Lydia enrolled in classes at a community college. She got a part-time job at GAP and worked nights and weekends, attempting to sort herself out. She was peppier lately, having earned Lizzy as a temporary roommate. She was happy to have her there—it cured the loneliness.

Greg Wickham had yet to be confronted, and every time the issue was brought up around the apartment, Lydia menacingly quoted Charlie Sheen: "I don't sleep, I wait." He had changed his phone number and blocked her on Facebook; flagging him down would require a little more effort, seeing as none of them had actually been round to his house.

As for Elizabeth, she could not seem to work Will Darcy out of her brain. Since Pemberley, she had seen him once. They had met for coffee in early October, but nothing had gone according to plan. She had seen him for a total of ten whole minutes, an intermission between one of his trials. He had been sweet, but stressed and preoccupied, caught between giving her the attention he felt she deserved and working on his case notes. His tie was loose and his dark brown hair was ruffled from him running his fingers through it multiple times.

She had listened to him patiently and hadn't said much; she didn't want to come on too strongly, didn't want to give him something new to fixate on or stress about at the current moment.

Lizzy had covered his hand with hers across the table, and Will had stared at her dolefully as she said, "You focus on what you need to focus on. Call me again when life settles down and we'll hang out. It's no big deal."

It was a perfect, reasonable solution; she thought she had said everything well.

Except he hadn't called her in three weeks.

"I bore him," Lizzy spoke, dejected, to the ceiling. "There is no other explanation. That, or I'm ugly."

"Oh, _shut up_," scoffed Lydia. She was digging through her sister's closet, and stopped to pull a gray and turquoise sweater off of its wire hanger. "What's the big deal? _You_ call him. What a novel idea!"

"No. I'm a girl."

"I thought you were a feminist," Lydia smirked.

"For the most part." Lizzy propped herself up on her elbows, "Like most women, I just play the feminist card when it's convenient for me. But I still like the boy to call first; call me old fashioned."

"Hey there, Old Fashioned."

"Cute."

She decided to be proactive about her concerns—at least partially. The next morning, Lizzy spent fifteen minutes staring at her iPhone, typing up the most _perfectly_ worded text. A little flirtatious, kind of noncommittal, partly genuine. The subtext beneath that text had to be analyzed, and OK'd by her sister. Both of them. Mary didn't count.

Then Elizabeth sent it and wanted to die. Then Will didn't respond for six hours and she wanted to die some more. "God, I hate myself," Lizzy moaned. "Why did I send that? _Why_. It's so obvious that he doesn't want to talk to me. Why can't he just respond? I look like an idiot. I'm an idiot."

"You _like_ him," grinned Lydia.

"Do you think he's lost interest? I did waste a lot of time. And I'm not the most encouraging girl in the world."

"I think you should put some pants on and go to work."

"Good call, man."

He texted her back around lunchtime, as Elizabeth sat miserably in the faculty dining room, stuffing her face with forkfuls of spinach and the rest of her Cobb salad. Kevin Zimmerman watched her with grim fascination. Then Lizzy seized her phone after the _ping!_ went off, grinning with maniacal excitement. "He texted me back! Fuck _yes_."

Kevin lifted both eyebrows.

Elizabeth stared back at him. "I don't like this version of myself." Then she checked her phone.

_**From: Will Darcy (+1-475-834-5072)**_  
_I want to see you, too. What are you doing this weekend? I have to draw up a contract with a client in Philadelphia on the 11th._

"I am definitely making an ass out of myself this weekend, that's what I'm doing," said Lizzy gleefully, typing up a response. "_Yee_, he wants to see me! Kevin, stop staring; it's not polite."

"Stop being entertaining and I'll stop staring at you."

* * *

Elizabeth met Darcy on a Saturday afternoon. They met at a Brazilian steakhouse for early dinner, beating the crowds. She had _so_ many expectations, so naturally her heart sank in disappointment.

Will wasn't himself—at least, not who he had been at Pemberley. He still looked the same. Looked _really_ good, actually. Seeing him out of his pressed suits was always an unusual treat for her. Lizzy found Will just as (and perhaps even more) attractive in jeans and a t-shirt, with a gray zip-up sweatshirt. It softened him, made him seem more accessible.

But he was quiet and dinner was awkward.

After Lizzy spent five minutes pushing agonizing small talk, he finally spoke.

"So, how is Lydia doing?" Will asked politely, cutting up his steak into chewable pieces. Elizabeth found the quirk kind of stupidly adorable, because she suddenly found _everything_ he did adorable.

"Much better than we would have hoped," she said, stirring her tea. "Living with me now, at least until she figures out what her next move is."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

There was a palpable awkward silence, where only chewing and the clinking of silverware could be heard, and the muffle of other people's conversations.

"It was, uh... she was with Greg Wickham that weekend," Lizzy finally explained. "That's who she was with in Atlantic City. I've been meaning to tell you. It was pretty shocking."

Will was looking into his plate with his eyebrows drawn together. "Yeah. That's—wow."

"I'm grateful that he called. As big of an asshole that he is, at least he had like a humane moment of _non_-dickheadness."

"Are you going to coin that word?" he smirked, popping a piece of steak inside his mouth.

Lizzy smiled, "Yeah, probably."

"I could take care of him, if you'd like," said Darcy quietly. He wasn't looking at her again.

"What, like _feed him to the fishes_?" Lizzy snorted, nose crinkling. "Very sweet of you, but it's not necessary. I'm having trouble finding him to begin with. It wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't even in Philadelphia anymore."

"I doubt that he is," Darcy agreed dryly. He refrained from saying anything more.

"Yeah," Elizabeth murmured. She fiddled with her spoon, turning it over and over again.

For dessert, she suggested that he come up to her place for coffee and tiramisu, which she had bought at Wegman's and had left thawing from the freezer out on the kitchen table before she left. Lydia had gone out to the movies with a friend from class, so they would have the apartment to themselves to catch up. Will obliged, neutral. It disappointed her even more.

He followed her in his car, and she met him just outside of her building after they had both parked.

"Hey, um... are we OK?" Elizabeth asked sheepishly.

"Yeah," said Will. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"I mean, I haven't heard from you in weeks. And dinner was nice but it was pretty awkward. Just not what I expected, that's all. Not necessarily _bad_, I mean. But—yeah." She chewed on her bottom lip, "Is this making sense?"

Darcy was half-smiling. He shook his head and looked down, his hands buried in his pockets. They stood just outside of her complex, and the street lamp washed him out in a pale, amber-orange glow. "I'm happy it's not just me."

"Yeah?" Lizzy smiled gratefully. "What's up with us?"

"I didn't realize you wanted to hear from me that much. I thought—I dunno, I thought you were kind of distant at the coffee shop. I realize that we only had a handful of minutes, but you seemed really detached. I felt I had to respect your space; give you enough time to warm up, if you ever did."

Elizabeth was staring at him with her mouth gaping open. "I didn't know I came across like that. I just didn't want to stress you out more than you already were."

"Well, I got hung up on that phrase—_hanging out_. It kind of implied friendship to me. And we hadn't seen each other in so long. And you hadn't called."

"Neither did you."

Darcy laughed and squared his shoulders. Lizzy glanced up at him and he sighed, "It's just been me buried in work, completely distracted by this _incredible_ girl but knowing better than to go after her. It didn't turn out too well the first time. I was scared."

Elizabeth blushed, remembering. "I haven't been all that encouraging this time around," she admitted under her breath.

"You can be frosty sometimes, yes." She apologized, and pointed out cheekily that perhaps they were more alike than she had given them credit for. "Well, basically we both suck."

"Yeah, seriously."

Will narrowed his eyes at Lizzy, suspicious. "So, that Brazilian steakhouse... was that a date? An awkward, unclear date?"

"You did pay."

"After I practically _wrestled_ the check from you."

Lizzy laughed quietly. She looked up at him and Darcy tucked a curl of hers behind her ear, his blue eyes searching her face. Lizzy stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him once, firmly on the mouth. Then she murmured, "Do you wanna come up?" and Will nodded, grinning.

She was quite proud of herself for the state of her apartment that evening, given the fact that she had spent the entire day before cleaning it. Even Lydia had scrubbed the bathroom tiles and done a _full_ load of laundry before succumbing to an episode of_ Pretty Little Liars_ and an entire bowl of popcorn.

"It's cute here," Will said encouragingly, hanging his jacket up on the coat hook. "I haven't been here in months. Almost a year."

"Damn," Lizzy whistled. She put the kettle on the stove and hiked up her sleeves, pulling two clean plates out of the dishwasher. "Well, you've made it just in time for dessert. Lucky you."

"_Very_ lucky," Will murmured. His mouth quirked up in a smirk.

They shared a slice of cake and caught the last few minutes of an old _Saturday Night Live_ rerun on the TV. They were both standing, leaning against the kitchen counter, just beside the sink as she held the plate and they used two separate spoons. "I mean, I have _chairs_," Lizzy pointed out helpfully.

"Sitting is overrated," said Darcy, taking a spoonful. "Want the last bite?"

"Nope—it's all yours."

"Cool, because I'm pretty stingy with this tiramisu. It's really good."

"I'm glad," Lizzy smiled.

"It's your fault; you bought it."

"I have zero regrets."

Will laughed and Lizzy grinned, taking the polished plate from him. She turned on the faucet and rolled up her sleeves again to do the dishes. She felt his hands settle on her shoulders comfortingly. She tilted her head back and groaned. "Stop that—I'm just gonna collapse."

"Why?"

"My back hurts. I keep putting off my appointments to the chiropractor."

"You're stressed out."

"Is it easy to tell?" Elizabeth pouted, half-laughing.

"Yeah," said Will seriously. "You're knotted up _all_ in here," his hand moved between her shoulder blades. "Just relax for a bit."

She let her chin dip down to her chest, her eyes falling shut as his hands worked out the kinks in her muscles. "What if I just fall asleep standing up like this?" Lizzy mumbled. "Like a flamingo."

Will smiled, his hands moving in wide circles. "Well, you are wearing pink." He gestured to her pale pink button down.

A sound escaped her throat—a low, barely perceptible whine that cut through when his thumbs kneaded out the tension in her shoulders. The water was still running—she hadn't noticed. "Last time you relaxed," he asked playfully. "_Go_."

"Pemberley." The response was automatic, and he had stopped. She opened her eyes.

"Really?" Darcy murmured, surprised.

"Yeah," Lizzy said softly. She turned her head and Will examined her profile. The cute, upturned nose. The soft curve of her mouth. "I was really happy that weekend."

_That was months ago_, he thought.

"Why did you stop?" she elbowed him gently in the ribs. Will grinned and continued the massage.

He moved her loose, dark wavy hair over one shoulder. Lizzy felt his lips brush over her neck, just below her ear, and she tilted her head into his touch. After a few moments, Will's arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her gently towards him. "What'chya doing?" she smiled impishly.

"Claiming you."

"Oh, OK."

Darcy rested his cheek between the groove of her neck and left shoulder, and Lizzy smiled wide. He traced his hands over the fabric of her shirt, beneath the hem and over her soft warm skin. "You can tell me to stop, you know," he teased, voice low in her ear. "It's only been one date."

"You're such an ass," Elizabeth laughed. Will smiled. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, slow and hesitant. Lizzy turned her face so that she could look at him. He moved forward and kissed her, fitting his lips to hers.

His hand moved carefully past her underwear, caressing. Will sloped his fingers downward, and Lizzy inhaled sharply against his mouth. Then she bit his bottom lip, and he pulled back laughing.

The intercom buzzed.

"Fuck," Lizzy muttered. She sighed and stalked across the foyer. It was 8 o'clock and Jane's voice came through the speaker, static but joyous. "_Buzz me up, loser!_" Which of course, she couldn't _not_ oblige to.

Darcy was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Lizzy frowned at him. He smiled, "Don't look so put out. We'll have lots of time to—_oh_."

"Stop talking."

She had pulled him in for another kiss, and he grinned against her mouth. His hands moved to her hips and she backed him up against the corner between the kitchen table and the cabinets. Will pulled his face away, breathless. "It's gonna be really awkward when your sister walks in—"

"She won't—"

"_Yoo-hoo!_" Jane hammered on the door.

"Fuck!" Lizzy whined. Will chuckled and she shoved him playfully on the shoulder.


	25. Morningside

Jane pursed her lips together a minute after a greeting rolled off of her tongue. No words had to be uttered to explain the situation. After all, Will Darcy was grinning (widely, insincerely) and reaching forward for a handshake. It was obvious that he was pumping up the friendliness to compensate for Lizzy's chilly reception.

"It's good to see you again, Jane. How have you been?"

"I, um—good, thank you, Will." Jane clasped her hands together and her blue eyes darted towards Lizzy. "Have I... interrupted something?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Yes."

"Do you want some tiramisu?" Darcy offered helpfully. Jane protested. He turned. "Shit, where did it go? Did you put it back in the freezer?"

Elizabeth sank into a bar stool and rested her elbows against the island counter. She pouted, dejected. "Yes."

Jane fought a smile but it came out anyway, one dimple present. "I'll uh, leave you guys alone in a second. My mistake. Lizzy, I just wanted to tell you that I have located Greg Wickham by complete and total accident and if you still have that nine iron, I'm prepared to do some serious damage to his car. I've brought it up with Lydia and she wants to inflict the damage to his _face_ and um..." her eyes flickered demurely to Darcy, "...pelvic regions... but you get my drift."

Lizzy had perked up a little. Darcy looked considerably more pissed off, as if only the man's name had cast a physical burden right on his shoulders. He started to scowl.

"Also, Charlotte is getting a divorce."

"_What?_" Lizzy gasped and nearly reeled off of her chair. "Since when?"

"Since now. She's even throwing a party."

"A party," echoed Darcy.

"A party," replied Jane.

"To celebrate a divorce?"

"To celebrate a divorce!"

"Are you just going to repeat everything he says, because it's getting a little annoying, Jane," Lizzy butt in. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever get a private moment with Will Darcy or if the universe was just out to piss on her parade. She had also never irrationally despised her older sister as she did now. She also wondered if Charlotte could move back in or if more cock-blocking was bound to occur. _I need to find a girl equivalent for cockblocking.._. "Twat swat, maybe."

"Ex_cuse_ me?" Jane blinked, her mouth gaping open.

Will covered his mouth with his hand; his shoulders were shaking.

Jane did eventually succumb to a cup of tea and a small piece of half-frozen cake. Will was friendly, thoughtful and open while catching up with her. Lizzy's mood dissipated and the evening ended with her on the sofa, watching _The Devil Wears Prada_ on FX with vague interest, since she had seen it at least a dozen times before. Then her sister left, and she kissed her goodbye.

"Still pissed off?" asked Darcy with a sly grin, coming up to sit beside her in the dark living room. The television cast eerie blue shadows on their faces.

"I think I'm over it. Just sleepy now," Lizzy said.

"It's half past eight," he grinned, challenging her.

"Yes, well... I'm on kindergartener schedule," Lizzy yawned, stretching out. She tucked her legs under and rested her head on one of the purple cushions, hugging it around the middle. "In fact, if you want to get me a juice box and a cheese stick from the fridge, I would certainly appreciate it. And then we can fingerpaint."

"I'm not much of an artist."

"Then just go get me my juice."

To her surprise, he returned a minute later with a pack of Capri Sun and handed it to her, thoughtfully removing the straw from its wrapper. Lizzy blinked up at him in astonishment. She laughed, "I wasn't serious, Will. You didn't have to go all the way to the pantry."

"Oh." He took it from her and punched the straw through. "More for me, then."

She smiled and sat up, and Will sat down beside her with his arm stretched out on the back of the couch. They watched the end of the movie together, with Lizzy's head on his shoulder. He laced his fingers between hers. By the time the credits rolled, they were kissing, the collar of Darcy's blue t-shirt firmly in Lizzy's grasp, with his hands under her shirt at the small of her back.

He pulled away and Lizzy's brow furrowed, disoriented. "What? What's up? What did I do?"

Will rubbed his jaw, trying to be light and affable. "No, nothing, nothing. I'm just thinking."

"Well, whatcha thinkin' about?"

He raised his eyes, almost guiltily. "Did Greg Wickham ever come up here?"

Lizzy tilted her head. Her mouth twisted into a smirk. "Jealous?"

"A little bit."

"I kind of like that," she murmured, leaning forward to kiss him again.

"Wait," came Will's muffled laugh. He put his hands on her shoulders and they broke apart again. "Did he? Because he said some things to me, and I don't know if they were said to set me off or what. He's always been pretty skilled at getting under my skin. But I was pretty jealous and I have to know."

"Um," Lizzy sat back on her heels and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "He did come up one time, yeah. Made dinner. Chicken and sweet corn. I wasn't very impressed. But... nothing really happened. He kissed me, and I wasn't feeling it. I was still salty for having been stood up."

"At Netherfield?"

"Mm," she nodded. She was looking down, tracing invisible patterns on his jeans. "He was supposed to be my date."

"I'm thrilled that he stood you up," Will murmured, leaning close to kiss her beneath her ear. Lizzy closed her eyes and smiled. "And that I found you alone; we should try that dance again sometime."

"We really should. God, I was so pissed off when you cornered me in the hall."

"I did not _corner_ you," Darcy spoke haltingly, affronted. "You make me sound like some predator and quite frankly, I—mm."

Lizzy had kissed him. This time, he reciprocated with enthusiasm. He threaded his hand through her tousled dark hair and she felt his fingers nimbly working on the buttons of her blouse. He slipped her shirt off, exposing her pale smooth shoulders. She pulled his blue t-shirt up over his head and tossed it onto the coffee table, which subsequently knocked over the empty pouch of Capri Sun, and a tissue box. Then Will lowered her back onto the sofa cushions delicately with her arms still wound around his neck.

"Hi," Will said. He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose, then her cheek. Then he kissed her forehead.

Lizzy was smiling. She rubbed the scruff on his jawline and murmured, "Hi." She tilted her head, watching. She was beginning to notice details of his face she hadn't picked up on before. The laugh lines that crinkled his eyes. The red in his beard. He bent down to kiss her, before his face screwed up in pain. "Ow, ow. _Ow_."

"What is it?"

Will removed a set of house keys that had embedded itself into his hip between the cushions. Lizzy's face lit up brightly and she lurched forward. "_There_ they are! Oh, yes." They clattered on the coffee table. He arched an eyebrow. Lizzy shrugged unapologetically, "Listen, this apartment is kind of like a spiderweb. Things get snatched up left and right."

"I don't mind being snatched up," Will murmured, half smirking as he lowered himself to kiss her again. "Oh Jesus Christ," he pivoted to the side and pulled out an Elmer's glue bottle and a set of Crayola 24-pack markers. "_Really_, Lizzy?"

"Oh yeah. Arts and crafts."

"Unbelievable," Will laughed.

"Sue me, I'm a kindergarten teacher. I have to test-drive the paper mache owl masks at home _before_ I bring them to school and they're declared toxic or something," she started, "which has happened, come to think of it. And that's not a front clasp." She looked down at her black bra, with its miniature pink bow between the cups that Darcy seemed to be examining diligently.

Will puffed out his lower lip. "Well, shit." His arms fell to his side.

"I don't make it _that_ easy for ya," Lizzy laughed, propping herself up on her elbows. He grinned and she kissed him again.

"In my defense, it's pretty dark in this room."

"Yeah, yeah."

"Do you have a bed?"

"Mm-hmm," Lizzy murmured, tracing her finger around the ridge created by his collarbone, then up to his Adam's apple. Will moved his head to the side accordingly. She fought the urge to tell him that his clavicle was sexy. Were clavicles even supposed to _be_ sexy? Whatever, his certainly were. "Bedroom's down the hall. But I'm pretty lazy so you're gonna have to carry m—_holy fucking shit,_" she yelped, laughing. He had gotten to his feet and swept her up in one fluid motion. "Thanks for the warning. Been bench-pressing there, buddy?"

"Little bit, yeah," Will grinned, almost boyishly smug. He adjusted his posture and kissed her.

* * *

**_From: Jane  
_**_Hon, do your sister a favor and sleep at my place tonight. Lizzy brought a boy home._

Lydia nearly sprayed her chai latte all over the table at Starbucks. Her classmate, Jenny Wilkinson, moved her notebook out of the way. She stared at the screen of her iPhone.

_**From: Lydia**_  
_Are you serious? FML, I wanted to use her Netflix tonight. Who's the guy?_

**_From: Jane_**  
_She picked up a drifter at the corner of Second Street Pike and County Line._

**_From: Lydia_**  
_Haaaawt. Oh well. Can we watch Gilmore Girls at your apartment?_

_**From: Jane**  
__You can watch it but I'm having company over too. I don't think he's staying over though. Sorry, sweetie.  
_

Lydia slumped back in her booth and her mouth hung open. Her thumbs moved furiously over her keypad.

_**From: Lydia**  
__He? I hate you both. Sisters before misters, Jane. Sisters before misters._

_**From: Jane**  
You're cute._

* * *

Daylight was streaming harshly through the cracks within the blinds, but Lizzy was determined to pretend she was still sleeping for at least another ten minutes. She was not entirely sure why. Maybe it was the gut instinct that conversation would lag and start awkwardly, and she just couldn't _deal_ with a common let-down like that after such a pleasant evening.

_Pleasant evening?_ She inwardly cringed. It made her sound like she had just had tea and crumpets at Nana Bennet's house up in Scarsdale.

Lizzy turned over on her side. Will was awake, staring out the window with his arm propped beneath his head. He was still shirtless, and she took an appreciative eyeful simply because she could, and wouldn't get any smugness or shit-eating grins from Lord Darcy, because he had not noticed y—

"Like what you see there, Lizzy?" Will clicked his tongue.

She flopped down on her back. "God, you are _so_ annoying."

He smiled and curled up next to her. His fingers traced the spattering of freckles on her shoulders. "Really, because you kind of held a different opinion last night and oh my god, you are _blushing_ and it is fucking _adorable_, don't ever stop, that, that which you are doing, right this second." Lizzy burrowed her face into her pillow and began giggling. Will took the pillow away, and then tried earnestly to pry her hands from her face. "You're so cute, why are you hiding? C'mere."

Lizzy curled up into him. She nestled her head into his chest and Will wrapped his arms around her. He dropped a kiss onto her forehead.

"I am wearing yesterday's eyeliner and I bet that I totally have sex hair," she mumbled.

"You do," Will said encouragingly. "But it's pretty hot, so no worries there."

"And it's Sunday."

"It is."

"And I have a lot of errands to run. _Ugh_." Lizzy tilted her face to look up at him, but Will was, of course, letting his hands drift due to the convenience of having a naked girl beside him under the sheets. "Hey, you."

"I'm sorry," he laughed. "Let's go run some errands, then."

"What, together?"

"Sure," Will grinned.

"_You_ want to go grocery shopping, and then go to the dry cleaners and pick up a load of laundry from the laundromat," Lizzy spoke dryly, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand. "And then scope out where my little sister is and possibly get breakfast with her to discuss her _life plan_ and all that nonsense."

"Yes," he said eagerly. "Because I would be spending time with you, which I bet makes every day occurrences a lot more enjoyable than they're normally supposed to be."

"I don't know, man. I've been in my own company for twenty-odd years now and it's gotten _pretty_ boring, so... " she giggled and squirmed, because Will had poked her side. "You're sweet. Let's go. Where are my pants?"

"Hanging over the door."

"_What_."

Will began to laugh. "You seriously _chucked_ them. It was hilarious. That's why I was laughing so hard, before you practically rammed me into the dresser. I'm gonna have a bruise on my hip tomorrow morning, guarantee you that."

"That was an accident! I couldn't see because the lights were off," Lizzy explained, sitting up now. Apologetic was hard to pull off while clutching a white bedsheet earnestly around your breasts. Then again, Will seemed very forgiving. He cupped her chin and tilted her face up, pressing a light kiss to her lips.

"Yeah, I forgive you."

Lizzy clicked her tongue and winked. Then she got up from the bed, removed her plaid robe from its hook beside the dress mirror, and went into the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Will grinned.


	26. A Force to Be Reckoned With

Lydia had never felt so single in her entire life. In fact, it was edging on bitterness. Loneliness and poor judgment had driven her to Greg Wickham, bookish and attractive at first, and then selfish and hopelessly bad in the sack. _Eight minutes_, the blonde thought with a snort. _Eight fucking minutes!_ She couldn't decide what was more depressing; the terrible sex or being deserted, penniless, in Atlantic City—the trashy, watered down cousin of Las Vegas. It had been weeks and it seemed to her that she could never wash the smell of cigarettes and old people out of her hair.

And now Elizabeth, her newfound confidante, had ditched her for a man. Jane was reuniting with some old friend she had never met, had mumbled hello to the other night before disappearing into her oldest sister's bedroom to watch_ Gilmore Girls_ alone. She felt some sort of adolescent jealousy spark and ignite in the pit of her stomach, and she annoyed herself. It was different now than it had been growing up.

The busboy poured her another glass of ice water and Lydia smiled in thanks. Then she sighed and rested her cheek in the palm of her hand. Lizzy was late. She plucked at her wristbands and bangles, removed her rings and put them back on. Checked her phone for any new texts. This was absolutely ridiculous. So, maybe she had pushed it too far. Had shoved her siblings away with one too many red flags. With an empty sigh, Lydia dove right for the bread basket.

"You gonna leave any for me, Pudge?"

Lydia glanced up sharply, a well-constructed insult at the tip of her tongue. Then her mouth gaped open.

Lizzy and Will fucking Darcy were standing beside her table. His hand was on the small of her back.

There was a pregnant pause.

Darcy cleared his throat first. "Sorry we're late."

"Yeah," Lizzy chimed in, pushing her hair out of her face. "There was an accident on 611."

Lydia was quiet.

Then she slapped her hands onto the table, burst out of her seat and attracted the attention of her waitresses' entire section at Red Robin. "I fucking called it! Friend of a friend. Friend of a fucking _friend_? Like, you can't _bullshit_ a bullshitter, Lizzy, but at least be up _front_ with me. _Ooh, look at me, I'm Elizabeth and I'm strong and independent and nothing's going on but I'm just going to eye-bang this dude all _over_ the fucking place and pretend that I _don't_ want to have his tall, lanky posh children!_" She closed her mouth for a moment, then continued, "I mean, obviously they wouldn't be tall at first. That would be like, really painful to push out."

Lizzy's face was so red that it almost matched her sweatshirt. "Are you done?"

"Yeah. Hi, Will."

"Hi, Lydia. Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Can we just sit down in the booth please," Lizzy whispered urgently to Will, still mortified. He didn't think twice about it and let her sit first before sitting down beside her. Then she leaned in closely, "Lydia, what the actual fuck, are you _trying_ to get us thrown out of here? I'd really like to order a Banzai Burger and a freckled lemonade first."

"I'm just having a bad day," Lydia sighed. She ran her fingers through her short blonde hair.

Darcy's phone went off and he apologized. "It's Georgie—I'll just be a sec." Then he excused himself to the restroom corridor. Lydia's sharp gaze followed him until he was gone.

"Tell me you finally tapped that."

"Whatever, Lyddie, I don't owe you any details."

Lydia laughed, delighted. Her mood was improving. "_Ugh_, you adorable fuckers. I'm happy for you. Seriously."

A big smile broke out on Elizabeth's face, which she tried to fight unsuccessfully.

"I'm also pretty jealous," her little sister muttered, running her index finger absently around the rim of her glass. "You're with a guy, _Jane_ is with a guy. It's like the whole world is hooking up with the heroes and I collect the scum."

"You trust too easily. You see what you want to see. We all do. But have a little faith." Lizzy encouraged. "Jane with a guy?" Her face scrunched up. "Oh, don't tell me she's back with Boatshoes Brian. I will just flip my shit."

"Top siders guy?" Lydia shook her head. "No, this one she called an old friend. I didn't stick around long enough to pry. But he was cute." She pondered for a moment, "In a depressed dude kind of way." A shrug, "Maybe he's a patient of hers."

"She's a _physical_ therapist, not a therapist." Elizabeth's brows knit together. "Did you get his name?"

"I don't remember," she replied in all honesty, rubbing her forehead. "I was in an emotional black pit of man-hating and despair. I don't think it was that important."

"Sorry, sweetie." Lizzy squeezed her hand across the table. "The good news is that Jane now knows where Wickham is, so now we can beat the absolute living shit out of him.

Lydia began to smile again. "I heard. I have brass knuckles in my purse. So, why is Will here?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "He wanted to visit me."

"Just out of the blue?"

"Yup. I came to see him in his hometown just before you went missing. I spent the weekend with him and his sister, Georgie. It was her birthday." She smiled faintly, remembering how warm and inviting the reception had been at Pemberley. "It was really, really nice."

"I fucking hate you guys."

"Whatever, man. You interrupted some quality time."

"Fuck that."

"Look at you F-bombing away."

"What can I say, you're rubbing off on me."

Lizzy grinned. Her sister smiled back and they started a thumb war half-heartedly over the table. Elizabeth told her that she could come back to her apartment now. "I don't know," Lydia sighed whimsically, "what if I walk in on you guys? That's gonna be awkward. Also, Blue Eyes better cough up for Thai Food Thursdays if he's gonna be stickin' around."

She rolled her eyes. "Not even an issue."

"So he's paying for it all then?" Lydia grinned.

Lizzy slapped her hand.

"What about when Charlotte moves back in?" Lydia said seriously, and Lizzy met her eye. "Jane told me about the divorce."

Lizzy pursed her lips. "I'm not kicking you out. Charlotte made the decision to leave. The rest we can figure out, if she does decide she wants back in. I pay for that apartment in full now."

"But I told you that I can help with the rent!" Lydia piped up. "I mean, yeah, GAP is pretty shitty with their bi-weekly pay, but I can pick up another part-time job, too. My friend Jenny is a shift supervisor at Starbucks. It should be fine."

"I need you to focus on school right now and save up your money. Don't worry about the rest." A beat, then, "Also, I really hated being a barista. Retail's a little less shittier."

Will was making his way back to the table now, phone still wedged between ear and shoulder. He stopped short, however, and rolled his eyes. Georgie was still yammering his ear off—he made the chatty gesture with his hand and Lizzy grinned, waving her hand.

Lydia was glancing at him over her shoulder. She looked back at her sister and hooked her blonde hair behind both ears. "You know, he's probably in love with you. I think I could tell from the get-go, when we met him at his sister's gig."

"Oh, stop."

This was the second person to propose such an idea, the first being Richard, and the idea still sat heavily in her stomach. Lizzy fiddled with the silverware. Too soon. Everything was too soon. It was terrifying. And it was easy—it was always easy to be swept up into something, but that was how things turned to shit, wasn't it?

It was what had happened with Steven.

"I'm just saying that you guys make me want to vomit in the best way possible," Lydia attempted to rationalize. Will caught a snippet of this and took his seat, puzzled.

"What did we order as an appetizer?"

"Mozzarella sticks."

* * *

Wickham had moved in with an acquaintance a few weeks back, and was living in his shoddy one-bedroom palace above an Indian restaurant in Newcastle, New Jersey. Lizzy did it all quietly. She got the address from Jane, went early in the morning and kept to herself. The owner let her in, mistaking her for a girlfriend, and left Elizabeth to Wickham's dark, messy, curry-and-cat-litter scented apartment.

The cat, a tawny sweet little thing, swept by her ankles and raised no hint of alarm. Lizzy pet the scruff of his neck and crept into the bedroom. Greg was sleeping on a bed that probably wasn't his own, with the white sheets bunched around his waist and his arms flapped out to his sides. It wasn't immediately obvious as to whether or not he had any underwear on; she hoped that he did. Flashing of man junk this early in the morning was just not permissible.

Then again, it did add to the vulnerability of the situation.

This was Lizzy's last thought before she took the glass of water on his bedside table and poured it on his head.

So violent was Wickham's reaction (scream and all) that she had to take a jump backwards to avoid his swinging arms.

"What the hell? _Lizzy?_" Greg was staring at her blearily, standing up with his fists clenched. Cold water was dripping from his hair and spattering onto his shoulders. At least he had briefs on. She glowered at him until his mouth closed and his back straightened. "Oh. Oh, this isn't good."

"Damn straight it's not. What the _fuck_ is the _matter_ with you?"

"Listen—"

"My sister, assface? What are you, a child predator?"

"Well that's a little out of line, she is of age—"

"Yeah, well so is my dad's samurai sword from his visit to Japan about 30 years ago, do you want a taste of that as well?"

Wickham sighed. "It was wrong of me, OK? _Sorry_. But I didn't fucking kidnap your sister. She came willingly, proved to be insufficient company, so I left her. It's a free country, isn't it?"

"Oh, well that's very considerate of you," Lizzy snapped. "Thanks for that. Not like the police were involved, or that you almost gave a mother of four a coronary and riled up an entire county."

Wickham sighed again, gravely, as if it was his time that she was eating. "My bad. Anybody ever tell you that you're pretty sexy when you're angry?" She slapped him upside the head. "Mother of God," Wickham exhaled through his teeth and rested his hands on his knees. "You Bennets are seriously getting on my last nerve. It was cute at first but now it's like you're all a clan of bitches and I am _just_ not having it."

She was just about to strike him again when he put up his hands. "Wait, wait, wait! Did Will put you up to this? Because I can't respect a man that sends a woman to fight his battles."

Her fist was still raised. "What you're saying is making no sense to me at all. This is _my_ sister that we're talking about. This has nothing to do with Will."

Greg raised his eyebrows. "Oh."

Lizzy's arm dropped to her side. She squinted at him. "What are you not telling me?"

"Nothing, nothing, nothing. Just that your _boyfriend_ did some serious nosing around outside of his business. He found me and threatened me. You sure you want a hothead like that?"

Her mouth moved but no words came out. She stood, staring at him, perplexed. "Threatened you to do what?"

"To call you."

Lizzy was frowning now. "Well, he didn't say anything to me about that. What the fuck?"

"Douchebag, am I right?" Wickham attempted at solidarity again.

"No," Lizzy's shoulders fell. She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Well, anybody who interrupts my lunch to wrinkle my shirt, get in my face and make me call a girl to 'fess up is certainly no friend of mine," Wickham muttered. He now had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and was searching his jacket pockets for a lighter. Lizzy was too preoccupied to hear him.

Will had hunted him down—had somehow pieced it together. _How? _

How much did she owe to Will Darcy? He had plucked at the strings behind the scenes. Why all the trouble? She wondered how long it had been after she left before he had left Pemberley himself. "Sneaky bastard," she muttered under her breath. But she couldn't stop the smile that tugged at her mouth. Will was just... _infuriating_. Infuriating and perfect.

Which was in and of itself, infuriating.

"He_ is_ a bastard," Wickham agreed, moving his fingers through his floppy, light brown hair. The gesture reminded her of Lydia. "But don't worry, darling. I told him that you hate his guts. Ruined his day, I think he has a little crush on you. _So cute_," he drawled sarcastically.

Lizzy had stopped smiling now. "You need to stop fucking with people's little sisters. Literally and figuratively, you massive twatwaffle."

"What are you talking about?"

"Georgiana Darcy."

"She was pretty stupid, too."

Lizzy couldn't help herself. She didn't even have to think about it. But her fist curled instinctively and hit Wickham squarely in the face. It hurt like _hell_... Wickham had fallen backwards onto his bed with a cry, as blood spurted out of his nose and in between his fingers.

She left him like that—opened the door with the hand that wasn't injured, gave a last quick glance at the cat, and let herself out.

* * *

**A/N:** Thanks for being patient, loves! I got swept up with finals and then I left the country during break. But I should be back to regular updates. I think I have a couple of chapters left, if they are broken up as planned. Happy new year!


	27. La Chute

**A/N:** So, it must be that I can't bear to part with this story just yet, because all my long and winding chapters keep getting split up into shorter, more frequent updates. Oh well. One more chapter after this one! And then _maybe_ an epilogue, i haven't decided yet. Let me know what you guys think, because I'm too sleepy to do so right now. Think, that is.

* * *

Lizzy winced as Will delicately unfurled her fingers, a look of concern marking his face. He turned her wrist. "I really hope you didn't fracture your hand. How did this happen to you?"

She lowered her eyes demurely. "Oh, you know me. Didn't look where I was going and stumbled into the doorframe."

"With your _hand_?" Will said, doubtful.

"My whole arm, really. And my hand, which uh... happens to be attached to the arm itself, so..." she glanced away, back towards Gate 34. They were at Terminal 3 at JFK airport, right along the semicircle of clustered family, friends and acquaintances of complete strangers flying in from California. Lizzy, try as she might, could not hide her bruised hand inside the sleeve of her coat. _I should have worn gloves._

Will said nothing more but was he was frowning now.

They had not seen each other for a few days. He had to return back to the city for work and Lizzy had attended a teaching seminar upstate, somewhere outside of Exton. But it was late December now and Charlotte's arrival date had, well, _arrived_. Darcy offered to drive. He was being chivalrous, to gain brownie points but also to keep Lizzy's easily provoked road rage in check. The girl could barely refrain from laying on the horn while driving behind the elderly on quaint, suburban streets. He didn't want to see what she was like, unleashed in New York.

Not that she would have necessarily done anything now. Lizzy Bennet had been eerily quiet all day—all _week_, rather. She hadn't called him once while they were separated. Was mute now that they were together. And every once in awhile, Will could feel her staring intently at his face; then he would turn sharply and lose her altogether. Perhaps she was hiding something.

Lizzy snapped him out of his reverie. "There she is! With...that sneaky, sneaky bastard."

Richard Fitzwilliam had Charlotte's carry-on slung over his shoulder, with his own messenger bag crossed over his chest. His blond hair was cropped short and he had sunglasses on, which was silly since it was already dinnertime. Charlotte was wearing a purple Haverford College hoodie and gray sweatpants. Had her hair up in a ponytail, too, and minimal makeup. She looked very much like Lizzy's ex-roommate. It filled her heart with joy—maybe they could eat ramen on her couch now.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in." Richard was grinning, pulling Lizzy in for a hug. "Miss Lizzy, why so surprised?"

"I didn't know you were coming!" Lizzy cried. She kissed Charlotte on the cheek and smiled, feeling her spirits lighten for the first time all week. "Oh, I missed you. You look good."

"Thanks," Charlotte said. She didn't look all that good. Too skinny and too tired. All sharp edges and no energy. Lizzy put her arm around her shoulders and squeezed her in a hug.

"You didn't tell her I was flying in?" Richard asked his cousin.

Will's brows pulled together. "No, I did."

"You _didn't,_" insisted Lizzy.

"Oh. Sorry."

"Domestic dispute." This got Richard a punch in the gut. "Easy, love. I'll hop back on the plane and get my sweet ass back to California if you carry on with this abuse."

"So, what's the occasion?" Lizzy had threaded her arm with his as they wheeled their suitcases out. "What brings you to the east coast?"

"Your spectacular weather," Richard said dryly. All looked past the entrance, where it was gray and miserable. It had been drizzling on and off all day.

"I'm serious."

"I'm visiting old Willis here," Richard reached across to ruffle Darcy's hair. He scowled and ducked out of the way. "Missed you, too. Anyway, ex-Missus over here mentioned she's flying back across the country and I thought I'd buy myself a ticket, hang out with the Darcies and see if you two have kissed and made up yet. ...Sensitive subject? You're blushing, Lizzy."

"No, I'm not."

She was. Charlotte cocked her head perceptively.

It wasn't until they were in the car, the boys up front and the ladies in the back, that her ex-roommate brought up the issue of the apartment. "I know I've been awful at keeping touch," she began nervously, "so I can't expect my room to be empty. I mean, if I were in your position, I'd be renting it out or something. Is that the case?"

"I wouldn't call it _rent_, exactly. But I do make her wash dishes and go on Wawa runs sometimes."

Charlotte raised her eyebrows. "You don't charge your new roommate?"

"It's Lydia. What kind of big sister would I be?"

"Oh," she relaxed, smiling. "Well..."

"We'll figure something out," said Lizzy supportively. But in all honesty, she had no idea if she could bring Charlotte back in. It made her feel bad. But then again, Charlotte could not expect life to remain as it was when she had left all those months ago, could she? Indeed, a great deal had changed.

"I'll stay with my parents for now," Charlotte said. "Really, it's no problem." Lizzy nodded, uncomfortable. Then Charlotte took her hand and lowered her voice, "You and Will seem like friends now. I understand that he's here for Richard, but I expected bickering from you both. _Again_."

"Mmhm," said Lizzy, threading her fingers through her ponytail.

"He's not so bad, is he?"

She smiled with pursed lips, as if holding in a laugh. "No. Not so bad."

"Just beware though. The way that man looks at you..." Charlotte trailed off, chuckling.

"Pa-_fucking_-diddle!" Richard declared with his loud, boisterous laugh. "See? _See_. Who says I can't master this silly little game? Whipping your American asses."

"Whupping."

"Pretty sure it's whipping."

"Sounds gross," Lizzy argued.

"You're gross," Richard countered.

"Your mom's gross."

"_Hey_. Leave Momma Fitz out of this."

"Make me."

"Brazen hussy—"

"Children, would you stop?" said Darcy, exasperated. He came to a stop before a red light. "It's very distracting."

Richard mimicked him in a high-pitched voice and got another slap.

15 minutes into the drive, rain started to slash against the windshield, so violently that all hushed up so Will could concentrate on the road. Then they began to crawl at a dismal speed, stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic because two lanes were closed off. Lizzy craned her neck to see if anybody was moving—just barely. She watched the rain shimmer in the glow from all the headlights, growing sleepy. Someone was honking a few cars back.

"Road work in the pouring rain," Richard said dully. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It's from earlier in the week. They're still unsafe," Darcy sighed. He rubbed his eyes.

"You want me to drive?" Lizzy offered softly. He caught her eye in the rearview mirror and shook his head.

"The girls should stay over," Richard said seriously. Darcy looked over at him. "No, I mean it. You could easily, _easily_ be stuck driving for another four hours, Will. And we're not even close to the Staten Island Expressway. And tomorrow's Sunday, at any rate. Nobody's dashing off to work just yet."

"I don't wanna impose—" started Charlotte.

"Have you seen his place in the city?" Richard interrupted, looking at her from over his shoulder. "_Huge_. There's a guest bedroom, too."

"And a pull-out in the living room," Darcy was starting to agree. He looked at Lizzy. "What do you think? I'll drive you home first thing in the morning."

"I just want a hot shower and clean sheets," Charlotte murmured. Her head was on Lizzy's shoulder.

"Done. Lizzy?"

"Fine by me. Just get us back safely, yeah?"

* * *

Elizabeth had never been to Darcy's place in Manhattan, nor was she prepared to wrap her mind around what the price tag might have been. Occasionally, she forgot that he was rich; it made her feel strange. Everything in this apartment—_loft_—was cool, sleek and contemporary. Back home, she had $2 posters fitted into frames and most of her furniture was taken, secondhand, from her parents.

Charlotte could not have been happier. Freshly showered, she wandered around barefoot and in her pajamas, with her hair piled up in a towel turban. She carried a hot cup of tea off to the guest bedroom and crooned "Night, all!" to everybody. And Richard, despite his natural energy, was eventually hit by the 6-hour flight that he had stayed up through. He passed out on Darcy's sofa; Lizzy had helped him put fresh sheets on the pull-out.

"Lizzy, you should definitely sleep here with me," he mumbled, eyes falling shut.

Lizzy smiled, "I'll pass, Richard. I think I'll go to Charlotte's. Do you want anything before I go?"

"A sandwich," was his last word of the night before he began snoring softly.

And Lizzy, of course, had not wandered to Charlotte's but had taken the obvious detour to Darcy's room. He was sitting in his bed with his reading glasses on, a leather portfolio open in his lap. He was scribbling notes into a yellow legal pad and looked up when she shut the door. Will smiled, "Glad you found your way back."

"Had to fool the others," Lizzy mock-whispered. "I don't have PJs. Can I borrow a t-shirt?"

"Of course."

Lizzy washed up in his bathroom and came out five minutes later, her hair falling in messy waves onto her shoulders. She wore his old gym shirt, an oversized maroon one that grazed the tops of her thighs. Darcy smirked, "You do it a lot more justice than I do."

She smiled and crawled under the covers. God, she had not known her exhaustion until that very moment. Between the sheets, she felt herself dozing off in no time at all. Then Will was shaking her shoulder gently. "Wake up... Lizzy, wake up."

"What?" Lizzy propped herself up, rubbing her eyes.

"You were mumbling in your sleep."

"Oh." She ran a hand through her hair. Will's light was off, his work long abandoned. She wondered how long she had been asleep for. It felt like no longer than five minutes, though it could have easily been an hour. He looked upset or concerned, and she couldn't tell which. "What's the matter? What was i saying?"

"Um," Will cleared his throat. "Wickham. You said 'Greg Wickham.' Just his name. Lydia's too."

"Oh."

"I don't—yeah."

"_Oh_. Oh my god, Will. Don't be silly. I don't—me and Greg Wickham, that's..._no_."

He looked instantaneously relieved. But then he said, "Well, he seems to be popping into your subconscious."

"Well, I kind of saw him a couple weeks back. Sometimes I still get angry thinking about it."

"You what?" echoed Will in a monotone. "You saw him. By yourself?"

"I'm a big girl."

"A big girl who can't throw a correct punch," he was scowling now, and had reached over to turn on the light. Lizzy squinted and he brought her hand between his own.

"I think I broke his nose," she said, quietly proud.

Will chuckled, "I wish you would have let me at him. You could have fractured your hand. Never use the flat parts of your fingers, just the first two knuckles." His thumb brushed over knuckles, as if indicating.

"What, you're encouraging me, now?" Lizzy teased.

"Oh, there's no doubt in my mind that you'll kick whoever's ass you want to." Will brought her hand up to his lips. For a flash of a second, Lizzy could have pictured them in a ballroom, circa 1810. Then the moment was gone when his iPhone vibrated with a text message.

She watched him sigh, type a response, and plug it back into the charger. Then timidly, Lizzy said, "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"You found Wickham."

Will looked serious then. The corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown. "He told you."

"Yeah well, I didn't exactly leave him any choice."

He didn't say anything. Lizzy sat up, urgent. "Will, how long after I left Pemberley before you got into a car yourself and went to go look?"

Will hesitated. "About an hour."

"You're so _silly_."

"I—"

She cut him off with a kiss. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed back, their lips brushing softly. Lizzy rested her forehead against his. Her eyes were closed. Then she heard his deep voice, barely a murmur: "I did it for you. Everything has its motive. I'm not _that_ good of a person—"

"Shut the fuck up. Yes, you are."

"Well, you threw the punch, so you've done a lot more than I could ever hope to do."

"Shut _up_. I don't even know where to begin, Will. I owe you so much."

"You don't owe me _anything_, Lizzy. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm not! I'm making a normal deal out of it!"

Will laughed, smiling. "Is this a backwards Lizzy way of saying thank you?"

"Thank you," Lizzy said honestly, whole-heartedly. She felt other words bubble up in her throat, unspoken risky words, and she was quick to purse her lips. Instead, she kissed him again. She was sitting in his lap now, and his hands were at the small of her back, under the filched t-shirt.

"You're welcome." He kissed her on the neck.

"Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky. You are so sneaky."

"Yep." Will brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. His fingertips grazed over her bottom lip. Lizzy was smiling. And he couldn't stop himself. "I love you..." Will said, soft but certain, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile. "Girl who crashed my car, I love you."

"I..." Lizzy felt her entire face flush, her heart thundering in her chest. "You didn't have your turn signal on."


	28. Disrupt, Corrupt, Interrupt Me

**A/N:** Thank you for your patience, dolls. We're not done yet.

* * *

Charlotte pawed at her face and scrunched her nose. Vaguely, she heard her name being called but was unable to discern whether she was dreaming or awake. It wasn't until she opened her eyes and saw Lizzy's face looming over hers that she jolted upright with a gasp.

Lizzy was dressed. She had her hair pulled up into a ponytail and she was already wearing makeup. She had a flat foundation brush pointed at Charlotte's face—the equivalent of a feather, which she had used to awaken her best friend during their younger years at sleepovers.

"Oh good! You're up." She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and got up off of the bed. "We'll stop by Wawa on the way for coffee. I, for one, am wired. I raided Will's pantry. I found some foreign Swedish energy drink in there."

Charlotte propped herself up on her elbows. "What time is it?"

"A little after 5."

"In the morning?"

"Yep."

"Jesus Christ, Lizzy." She flopped back down onto the mattress.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? We have to leave. There's a cab waiting for us outside. You don't even have to pay for the most expensive cab fare that ever fared."

"Well that's generous of you," Charlotte muttered groggily. "Any particular reason you're bolting from your beloved's in the wee hours of the morning?"

"He is _not_ my beloved."

"Oh, please! I was just kidding with you in the car." She sat up again. "You think it's not obvious that you're together? Richard knows too, of course."

Lizzy's face looked ashen; her voice grew small. "Seriously?"

"Yep."

"Maybe it's just a rumor."

"Please. You didn't have a rumor phase. It went from_ they hate each other_ to _clearly, they are fucking_."

"I despise you a lot."

Charlotte curled up and pulled her cover over her shoulders. "Relax. Enjoy it. He's cute. He adores you. He stared at you all through my wedding ceremony. Your babies will be beautiful and sarcastic."

"I don't want babies."

"You will want his babies."

"He loves me."

Charlotte glanced up. There was a long stretch of silence; she took in the miserable, frazzled expression on her best friend's face, noticed the dark circles that rimmed her eyes. "Wow. You are terrified."

"Yes."

"Is this about Steven?"

"Yes."

"Honey." Charlotte pulled her in for a hug and Lizzy pressed her cheek into her friend's shoulder. "Do you…"

"No. I don't know. Can we go home?"

She nodded. "Okay. Let me just leave word with Richard."

* * *

Steven Kennedy was a medical intern at St. Agnes Hospital when Lizzy first met him. He was in the middle of his residency, and his attending physician had been Lizzy's doctor when was wheeled into the ER on Easter Sunday after being 'playfully' hip checked down the basement stairs by her cousin Harry Phillips. She took to him immediately—he was fucking _adorable_. Curly dark hair, warm brown eyes, a guitar pick on a chain around his neck, hidden carefully beneath the neckline of his green scrubs. Freckles. _Terrible_ singing voice. Both of them were outgoing, social, funny and charming. They sparked immediately. He wanted her number even though she had mascara splattered down both cheeks. She wanted to know _why_.

They dated for eight months before he told her that he loved her, adored her, couldn't imagine life _without_ her. Steven told her this in a laundromat. Folding each others' delicates because the apartment they shared in Bensalem did not include utilities. Lizzy, sensible as she was, chewed this over for a good three weeks before she reciprocated her feelings, this being the first boy that she had ever truly loved.

How could you not? He was so friggin' understanding and supportive. She could talk to him about anything. Her parents adored him; her sisters crushed on him instantly. Steven accompanied them all on family vacations.

The engagement came as a natural consequence. It seemed like the perfect time, too. They had been living together for about a month. Lizzy had finally stopped job hopping and student teaching; she had secured a steady position as a Kindergarten teacher at one of the best suburban public schools in the district. Steven had finished his residency.

Mama Bennet was annoyingly, blissfully in raptures. The entire town _had_ to know that her second daughter ("Certainly no beauty of the family but reasonably pretty, don't you think, Phoebe Lucas?") was engaged to a handsome, perfectly mannered doctor. They had the engagement party at an Italian restaurant. Steven's parents and brothers flew in from Ohio.

And Lizzy, ever so practical and careful of her heart, began to think that perhaps it was time to let go and stop trying to control everything. Jane encouraged her; it had been ruining her chances of happiness. Steven would kiss her at night and tell her that she meant the world to him, that he was the luckiest guy in the world, that she had _nothing_ to worry about. So she stopped worrying about everything and let herself dream about the life they would build together.

When he broke up with her, it wasn't pouring rain and it wasn't at a pivotal, soul-searching moment either. Lizzy had been eating lunch alone in the cafeteria when Steven called her on the phone, scared shitless and overwhelmed about what their marriage would lead to. She listened patiently outside, one hand covering her ear, her brow deeply furrowed. She willed him to calm down. Perhaps his job had contributed to the stress, but Steven insisted that it was their relationship.

He wasn't ready to have kids. He wasn't sure if he _wanted_ kids. He wasn't ready for the responsibilities of marriage. Lizzy reminded him that these were modern times. Their marriage could be whatever they wanted it to be; she sure as hell didn't know if she wanted children yet either. But in his mind, Steven had already ended things, told her that he just "couldn't do this" and that they had to stop. He was already looking for another job in Tucson.

It gutted her. She moved out within the week and settled into Charlotte's apartment. Lizzy spent a good few weeks crying. She threw herself into work and took on other responsibilities; she became the assistant coach for the Junior Fins, the school's student swim team. Accidentally lost 10 pounds. Then she dusted herself off and moved on.

He called her four months later and left a message on her answering machine. He told her that he missed her, that he made a huge mistake and would be back in town next week if she wanted to grab dinner "for old time's sake." Charlotte had been home at the time. She called him back, calmly told him to go fuck himself, and deleted the message from the machine. It had taken months for her best friend to pull herself back together—she wasn't going to let the dickwad pull Lizzy apart, especially when she was finally dating again.

Lizzy was thinking about him again, lying face down into her pillow now. Her phone kept ringing. It was hitched into its charger, which was plugged into the outlet on the other side of the room. Which was a good thing, too, because she wasn't sure if she would have had the willpower to ignore it if it had been within her reach.

She was being childish. She knew it, too.

Will wasn't Steven.  
Steven wasn't Will.  
Why shouldn't she give this a fair shot?

But every instinct within her was screaming for her to run before it had the chance to get ugly. And when Lizzy started to think about acknowledging her feelings, her throat closed up and her chest felt like it was going to cave in and she felt the pin prickles of anxiety numb her fingers.

Luckily, Jane had a key to her place. She stopped by on her way back from the mall, let herself in and sat on the corner of Lizzy's bed. Then she thoughtfully split a pastry she had bought from Panera Bread and offered it to her younger sister, who shook her head miserably. "Charlotte told me what happened," Jane said. "I'm here for the sisterly support. Also, to pass on the message that Mom wants you home next Sunday."

"Gross."

"It's Dad's birthday. Is Lydia around? I need to remind her too."

"She's out with a friend." Lizzy sighed, thinking of her father. "I need to buy him another tie he won't like."

"Then make it a gag gift; get him one that lights up."

A beat. "Jane, sometimes you're brilliant."

Jane beamed. She took her sister's hand. "Will called me. He wanted to know if you got home safe."

"How did he sound?"

"Anguished and hiding it."

"I'm a really terrible person, Jane." Lizzy sighed and rolled over onto her back. "He doesn't deserve this just because I'm neurotic and burned and... stereotypically _awful_."

"So what are you gonna do?"

Lizzy chewed on her bottom lip. "Ignore all my feelings until they curdle up inside me like bad milk. Become a bitter, cynical old hag. It's in the stars for me. I feel like it always has been."

"You are shooting yourself in the foot, you realize that, yes?" Jane said patiently.

Elizabeth smiled to herself and started picking at the threads of her comforter. "You... are wearing a man's shirt."

Jane's face flushed. Lizzy had noticed it right away. Her sister was wearing a hunter green men's button down, belted around the middle as if it was supposed to. She wore it with black leggings—had her messy blonde hair pulled into a bun. Leave it to Jane to effortlessly walk out of a GAP catalogue.

"I might be."

"So, how long has Charlie been back?" Lizzy smiled cheekily.

Jane pursed her lips and tried desperately not to laugh. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Tell me later?"

She was nodding. "Yes. Yes, definitely." Jane kissed her sister on the forehead. Then she got up. "Your phone rang twice since I got here."

"Yeah."

"Want me to hand it to you?"

"No?"

Jane clicked her tongue and unplugged it. She tossed it to Elizabeth, then blew her a kiss goodbye.

Lizzy looked at her phone._ (6) Missed Calls_. She scrolled through. Five from Will. The most recent, however, had been from an Undisclosed number with a 702 area code. Frowning, Lizzy's thumb hovered above the redial key when the phone began to buzz on its own. She picked up immediately. "Hello?"

An observant silence. "_Miss Bennet? Miss Elizabeth Bennet?_"

"Yes, speaking," Lizzy tried patiently, swinging her legs off the edge of the mattress.

"_Oh, good. We met briefly, Elizabeth. My name is Catherine de Bourgh. You were friendly with my nephews at the wedding of William Collins and Charlotte Lucas, though the latter has been removed from the family._" A sniff, disapproving.

Lizzy was caught off guard, both by the identity of the caller and the cold clipped manner she spoke in. It was all she could do to mumble back, "Oh. Hi."

"_I obtained your number from my niece, Georgiana. In fact, I would not be calling you at all if I had not recently spoken with her. My niece was filling me in on her brother's life, seeing as William doesn't know how to pick up a phone and call his closest relation to ask how she's doing or if she's dead yet._"

She said nothing. But her head tilted, confused.

Catherine needed no verbal encouragement, it seemed. "_I have been informed of something very alarming in nature, Elizabeth. You are in a serious relationship with my nephew._"

"Um... " Elizabeth scratched her forehead. She snort-laughed, "Lady, is this for real?"

"_I'm very glad you think this is a joke, Elizabeth, it assuages my nerves. Perhaps it is a trifling sort of temporary attraction. You must know that whatever you share with my nephew cannot last long. He has been in an off and on (hopefully _on_, very soon) relationship with my oldest friend's daughter, Anne Kowalski. Their combined inheritances, hers from her father's oil business and his from his family's wealth, has been planned for many years. They have been dating since they were both teenagers._"

Lizzy licked her lips. "Uh, what?"

"_You're a _slow_ sort of girl, aren't you?_"

She rose from her bed, albeit in her underwear, bristling. "No, I'm the _right_ sort of girl, _Catherine_, this is all just brand new information for me."

"_What a shame_." Catherine sniffed again—a habit that was starting to grate on Lizzy's last nerve. "_So darling, I believe you and I understand each other at last. I can cross that off of my to-do list for today's activities, though I do still have to see to it that our garden is correctly hedged and trimmed. You know how it is in these wily spring months_," a light, half committal cough (Lizzy thought absurdly:_ Is this really happening?_). "_We have an agreement that you will not pursue a relationship with my nephew Will, correct?_"

Her face flushed with color. "No. We certainly do not."

Another loaded silence. "_You are being very stubborn_."

"It's the only way I know how, ma'am."

"_You expect Will Darcy to attach himself to a girl whose sister selfishly made headlines recently? Whose disappearance was done as a stunt to gather attention and embarrass herself and her family? We know the gentleman she was with, even if it was not publicly announced. Those who associate themselves with Greg Wickham are of _no_ interest to us, Elizabeth._"

Lizzy's mouth gaped open. "First of all, you have no place to butt into my business or the business of my family. Secondly, you don't even _know_ me. You met me once at a wedding, and you were rude and unpleasant. Third, I don't know this business about Will and Anne whatsherface of Green Gables or some shit but I can tell you this—I will take it up with _Will_. So fuck off and mind your business, Mrs. de Bourgh. Thanks for calling."

"_You selfish, disrespectful, in—!_"

She tossed her phone onto a pile of clothes and fell back into bed.

* * *

Lizzy slept a full, dreamless seven hours before the pounding on her door woke her up. Distressed and sleepy, Lizzy first harbored delusions that there was a rapist or a burglar who had broken into her home. Of course, she scrambled up to a standing position and grabbed a _hanger_ of all things from her bedroom closet. Then she thought for a split second that Her Highness Lady Catherine de Bourgh had come to abduct her, decapitate her and use her head as a flower vase. But this morbid fantasy dissipated quickly, too.

She unbolted the door and held the hanger over the threshold. Darcy raised his eyebrows.

"Oh."

"Is this how you greet all your visitors?"

"Maybe," Lizzy muttered. She moved to one side and let him through.

Will stepped inside and shrugged out of his jacket. He folded it neatly and draped it over the blue armchair in the living room. It annoyed her. Then it annoyed her even _more_ when he said, "I'll give you some time to make yourself decent, if you need it. Then we'll talk."

Elizabeth glanced at her reflection, mirrored back at her in the powered off TV screen. Messy hair, plaid pajama top, black polka dot panties and tube socks. She looked back at him, "Nope, I'm good. What if I wanna talk in my underwear? Is that such a big problem, Will? It's _my_ house."

Will frowned at her, puzzled. "You're not drunk, are you?"

"Fuck you. I just woke up."

"Fuck _me_? Lizzy, if anything I should be angry with you. You bolted out of my apartment at some ungodly time in the morning, took off with Charlotte and ignored all my phone calls. I had to call your sister just to find out if you were okay."

"Oh, how terrible for you."

"You're being childish."

"_You_ are." A beat. Will stared wildly at her and Lizzy thought: _Oh God, I'm a mess_.

"Is it something I did?" he asked.

"No."

"Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk about it, Will. Can we just leave it alone? I'm sorry that I worried you; it was selfish and stupid but I just couldn't stay there. And now your aunt just called me and freaked me out—"

"My _aunt_ called you?"

"Yeah!" Lizzy shouted, "Essentially told me to back the fuck off because you're seeing some girl named _Anna_ or whatever, and is that true? Because if you're dating another girl, you're gonna come clean to me right now before I break your face—"

"_No_, Elizabeth, I'm not seeing anyone but you. Aunt Catherine is delusional. She's been trying to set me up with Anne Kowalski, Laura Whitmore-Kowalski's daughter, practically since high school. She wants to see a merging of estates, because she's a backwards aristocrat who thinks it's 1875." Will was on edge now, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Oh." Lizzy pursed her lips.

"Why did she call _you_?"

"I don't _know_, something your sister said!"

Darcy crossed his arms over his chest. "Now you're mad at Georgie? The girl adores you..."

"No, of course I'm not mad at Georgie. I'm mad—"

"At me?"

"_No_," Elizabeth said weakly. "No. I just need some time to figure stuff out, all right?"

"Are you freaking out because of last night?"

"What about last night?"

"I don't know, Lizzy, you tell me!" Will argued, angry and hurt. "Because I don't think I did anything wrong, to be honest. I've been racking my brains for hours, trying to see how I fucked up by letting you and your best friend stay the night at my place. If you could let me know, that would be fucking _great_."

"Well, I'm not gonna talk to you like _this_, okay?" Lizzy crossed her arms, affronted. "You sound like a condescending asshole."

"I'm frustrated, Lizzy, you take off in the middle of the night—"

"I _apologized_!"

"I'd like to know _why_!"

"I don't _want_ to _talk_ right now! I just need some time to think, okay Will, you have to respect that. Please leave. I'll call you in a few hours."

Will began to pace the room. "You are being so difficult, Lizzy..."

"You know what, fine. _You_ stay. I'll leave." She stormed past him and threw the door open when he caught her arm and pulled her towards him.

What turned into a struggle to keep Lizzy away from the door turned into a ridiculous struggle over who was stronger than the other; it escalated into the kitchen, where Lizzy had him for about a millisecond when she tripped him. But then Will caught his footing and effortlessly won by pinning her against the fridge.

"You pinned me against the fridge," Lizzy said dryly. "What, in case I wanted a snack?"

Darcy searched her face, her tiny wrists shackled by his hands. "You are probably gonna be the death of me."

"Yeah. It's very likely."

Then Lizzy grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him towards her for a kiss. Will's hands cupped her behind, which was perfectly fine by her, especially when he lifted her up and sat her down on the countertop. It was an interesting advantage, being face-to-face with him now. Lizzy hitched a bare leg over Darcy's hip and his fingers slid under the hem of her t-shirt, their lips fumbling heatedly. He bit her bottom lip and Lizzy drew back with a gasp.

"Too much?" Will asked, breathless.

"Fuck no," she said, and kissed him aggressively again. She felt him laugh against her and held him tightly, letting warmth and butterflies but mostly endorphins surge through her veins. Will pressed his mouth against the curve of her neck; he slipped a hand into her panties and Lizzy arched against him before he tugged them off. She yanked his gray t-shirt up over his head, cursing when it got caught.

They left a modest pool of clothes behind them as they stumbled towards the couch. But Darcy _did_ ram into the coat rack on the way; he hissed against her mouth in pain and Lizzy pulled away, laughing before he swept her up in his arms again.

_Fuck it_.


	29. Hand Covers Bruise

It was 4 a.m. A square patch of moonlight marred the hardwood floor, and Darcy made shadow animals in it. Lizzy chuckled quietly. Her head rested on his bare chest, her arms snug around his waist. He brushed his lips against her hair. She smelled nice—like lavender or vanilla or something floral.

Fuck if he knew shampoos.

"Are you cold?"

"No," Lizzy murmured. They had stolen the plaid fleece blanket from the living room couch and were properly cocooned in it now. Her eyes closed sleepily, then opened when his low voice stirred her awake.

"You should have told me," Darcy murmured.

Lizzy looked up at him and hesitated. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to burden you with my problems." Her voice was strained, wording her feelings carefully. "It's just that... I know guys freak out, especially in light of my fucked up emotional disabilities. Nobody wants to hear that shit."

"Hey, don't generalize us. I want to hear," Will said softly, hooking her hair behind her ear. His fingers lingered at her cheek. "You would never be a burden to me, Lizzy. You make everything better. Believe me."

"Do you _always _say the right thing?"

He chuckled. "Only recently. And only when you're around, it seems."

"Oh, really?" she giggled, turning. "Tell me."

"Well, I skyped with Georgie yesterday because she wanted my opinion on a dress she bought. I gave it and she hung up on me."

"You said something bad, didn't you?" Lizzy glanced up at him.

"Only that I heard horizontal stripes make a woman look heav—_what?_" he laughed, grinning.

She stopped stink-eyeing at him. She kissed his cheek, then moved to rest her head against his chest again. Will's hand curved under the blanket and rested on the small of her back, touching her lightly. His face turned inward to the curve of her neck, and he marveled at how soft and warm she was. And _his_. Lizzy was his.

He had fucked it up. Will had been arrogant, presumptuous, had inadvertently shoved her away when he had felt _so_much for her. And now, the girl he wanted was sleeping in his arms. Despite her fears and attachment issues, Will considered himself the luckiest man on Earth.

He decided that if Lizzy needed time, he would give her as much as she needed; what mattered was that she was by his side. If she needed _anything_, he would drop everything and give it to her. Whatever she wanted, it was hers.

_God, am I in trouble._  
Sometimes his heart felt full to the point of bursting.

Will said her name again but Lizzy had fallen asleep curled up against him, her breathing slow and even. Content, he drifted off himself.

* * *

17 miles away, Charlie Bingley sat fretfully in an armchair; his right leg jogged up and down with nerves. His hair stuck up in ginger tufts, pale blue eyes alert and fixed on his reconciled girlfriend. Jane was watching an episode of _Pretty Little Liars _but she would occasionally turn to throw a popcorn kernel or two at him. "Stop staring at me, Charlie! You make me self-conscious."

He relaxed, distracted by her absurdity. "What does a girl like you have to be self-conscious about?"

"Loads," Jane said miserably. Charlie grinned and shook his head.

And then he remembered the tremendous weight in the pocket of his hunter green sweatshirt and felt anxiety rush into him in one fell swoop. He fingered it now, the smooth gold band and the delicate round cut diamond in the center of it. His grandmother, Genevieve Bingley, had given it to him five years ago. "_When you find the right girl..._" he recalled her honeyed voice, her wink.

Then he had tossed it in his bureau and went out to a club with his friends.  
But now... well, everything was different.

If anybody had told the poor fool that 3 weeks ago he would be in a position of proposing to Jane Bennet, Charlie would have had such a violent pitch of emotions that would most likely end in a combination of laughing and sobbing. But seeing her sister at Pemberley had filled him with a vague but steady hope. And hope was what had taken him to Jane's residence on a gray day, holding a bouquet of daisies at her door, smiling dopily but earnestly.

She took one great hiccup of a gasp and shut the door in his face.  
Fifteen minutes later, Jane creaked it open again.

The boy she had split with many months prior was sitting slouched against the opposite wall, his head in his hands and the bouquet of flowers between his feet on the ground. He looked skinnier than ever, sleep deprived and pale. "Charlie?" she had mumbled.

Charlie's head snapped up. He scrambled to his feet. "Jane. Hi. These are for you."

She took the bouquet and stood staring at them awkwardly. "Thank you. Do you want to come in?"

"No."

"No?" Jane's brow furrowed. Well, he certainly wasn't off to a very fine start.

"No, this can't wait," Charlie said in a rushed exhalation. And then he launched into the greatest tangent known to man, too loud and too fast and right in the middle of her apartment hallway. Jane's face turned bright pink and she tried _very_hard to focus on his words amid all the wild gesticulations and the fact that Charlie was, quite literally, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"—what I mean to say is I was an _idiot_ because really, what kind of half-wit listens to the advice of his friends when its his _own_ intuition he should be following and every reason and every emotion I felt was pulling me towards _you_, so who really _gives_ a flying fuck if anybody disagreed? It's my life; it's _our_ lives. I should have knocked any naysayer's goddamn teeth in or at the very least curtailed communication because I'm really non-confrontational in nature and violence actually makes me a little woozy and blood makes me dry-heave...but the point is," Charlie took in a deep breath and Jane stared up at him wide-eyed, having had the distance between them shorten by at least half way. "I've never loved nor will I love a girl more than I love you and I miss you _so_ much, Jane, I am such a _mess _without you, I just don't work right, all the important parts are missing, several screws and bolts and what have you. You just make me right. I love you. Just please let me back into your life, even if it's like, as an escort to social events or that awkward friend who does your taxes every April, I don't care. I can't bear to not have you in life anymore. I give up."

Jane was speechless and unblinking. It took several minutes and a pot of tea and some more conversation for his words to sink in. And at the end of it all, Jane sat on the arm of the sofa, examining him over a cup of Earl Grey. "If we got back together," she said slowly, experimentally, "you would have to promise me one thing."

"Anything," Charlie said.

"_Full_ communication." Her eyes narrowed, "Don't make that face! You don't have to text me from the toilet telling me you're on the toilet. But if you're upset, you _vocalize _it. If you have questions, you ask them. If we need to talk, we talk! None of this tip-toeing around our feelings bullshit, you hear me? It's enough, for the both of us, I mean. We have to be able to trust one another and the only way to do that is to be honest with each other."

Charlie was nodding. "So no texting from the john..."

She hurled a cushion at him, smirking. "I did miss you."

"I missed you more," he murmured, closing the distance between them. He rested a hand against her cheek and she closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. Then Jane kissed him, perhaps a little more passionately and aggressively than she had all those months ago.

Charlie caught himself smiling now and rubbed his jaw to conceal it. Jane looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes narrowed. "You're being weird."

"How so?"

"_Quiet_. And your foot keeps shaking, it's setting me off." Her face became grim, "Wait, did something happen?"

"No."

"Okay." She turned her head slowly back to the TV, then back at him. "Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing!" he laughed. "Gosh Janie, you are paranoid."

Her eyes lowered to Charlie's fingers, drumming fitfully inside the trapezoid shaped pocket of his sweatshirt. She frowned and her voice lowered. "You're not still smoking again, are you?"

"No," he promised solemnly. "No, I haven't done that since I got here."

Stress smoking was his only vice. A leftover habit from college that resurfaced when his nerves got the better of him. He had smoked a lot in her absence, and the nicotine withdrawal had been a nightmare. But now that he was with his girl again, he had hardly ever really cared to notice it anymore. Still, Jane was unconvinced.

"Show me," she said softly, scooting up to him on the couch. "Show me, _pleeeease_?"

Charlie's hand clamped over the pocket. "No! I don't have a pack in there."

"Then why are you hiding it?"

"Because I don't want you digging in my pockets."

"Why? Why hide it if there's nothing to hide?" Jane tutted. "Charlie, it's okay, I won't judge. I helped my dad quit too. And Lizzy's tried _far_ worse, let me tell you, she was kind of a wild child in college—_hey!_" she opened her mouth, stunned. Charlie had practically leapt up to a standing position.

"Damn it, woman!" he sighed gravely and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I guess it's fated. I've been sitting here all night, well all week, wondering how to go about doing this. I'm not romantic enough. I'm really not. And I don't want it to be _too_ clichéd, you know? No fortune cookies or champagne glasses. Like, I honestly think that's just a choking hazard. It happened to my cousin, Wendy—"

"Charlie, what the hell are you talking about?"

He began grinning. Then he fingered the ring in his pocket and pulled it out, lowering onto his left knee almost reflexively. Jane's hands covered her mouth.

"Marry me, Jane?"

Jane took about 30 seconds. The longest 30 seconds of his life. Indigestion-causing 30 seconds. And then her arms flew around his neck and she peppered his face with kisses. "Yes, you idiot! I love you, yes! Yes, of course! Yeah!"

* * *

Will met with Charlie for congratulatory drinks the next night, at a pub right down the street from the Netherfield Inn. He raised his scotch and Charlie clinked his beer and the two men toasted to Mr. Bingley's happiness. "Best of luck, Charlie. I really couldn't be happier for you." A beat, "I am your best man, correct?"

"Well, since you saved me the trouble of asking..." Charlie rolled his eyes in good humor. "Yeah, of course you are. And Lizzy will be Jane's maid-of-honor. It's gonna be quite a party. Listen, you think Richard will agree to being a groomsman? I'm a little short on prospects. You're my only bro."

"_Aww_." Will smiled and tossed his drink back. "Yeah, I don't see why not. You guys get along well enough.."

Charlie had already zoned out, dimples showing and all. Every time there was a lull in the conversation (real or imagined), his thoughts flitted back to Jane; he couldn't help the smile that spread out across his face.

After a minute, he nudged Darcy. "So, you and Lizzy. Have we unfucked that up?"

"Yeah," Darcy was nodding, albeit hesitantly. "Yeah, almost. I don't know."

"Don't worry about it. I know she's the headstrong and independent type of girl. But there was a reason she was at Pemberley that weekend. And as sweet as your younger sister can be, I am really doubtful that it was Georgie." He paused, "Plus, she was wearing your shirt when I met her out on the patio the next morning."

His hand was suspended in the air for a high five. Darcy stared at it reproachfully, then gave in with a sigh.

Charlie brightened up. "Maybe we can have a _double_ wedding—!"

"No."

* * *

That Sunday, Theresa Bennet found herself the happiest mother on the entire block. She spent the majority of the time boasting on the phone to her ex-neighbor, Phoebe Lucas. "Yes," she trilled, buzzing around the kitchen like a fly while Jane and Elizabeth did the majority of the cooking. "Yes, Janie is engaged! My _daughter_ is engaged! Permanently, one can only hope. You recall what happened with poor Lizzy... What a gem that boy was. A doctor, yes. You have a very sharp memory, my dear. Oh well. But Charlie is _wonderful_."

Lizzy's jaw clenched and Jane touched her wrist fleetingly. She gave her an encouraging smile. "Get the chicken out of the oven, would you? It should be finished."

She obeyed, nodding. Now was not the time to pitch a fit with her mother. Family occasions were far and few between. So she focused her attention elsewhere. Will and Charlie were in the basement with her father, finishing a game of pool.

Laughter could be heard from the dining room, where the table was being set by Lydia and her date. Lizzy smiled impishly at the thought, delicately lowering the oven tray onto a wooden cutting board. She craned her neck to see into the next room, saw Gabe Webster gingerly tucking napkins under each plate to Lydia's delight and praise.

"Well done, Red," she ruffled his hair.

Thank heavens he had finally contacted her, even if it was only by Facebook. Lizzy wasn't sure if she could take much more of Lydia's bad judgment in boys. Not after Wickham. But Gabe was a sweetheart. She liked him.

He caught her eye from the doorway, smiled and waved. "'Lo!"

"—don't be silly, Phoebe!" her mother's halting laughter caught her attention again and grated on her nerves. She was leaning against the counter now, the black cordless phone wedged between her ear and shoulder. "It's going to be a huge wedding! You can bring whomever you like, I doubt my Jane will object. We might as well invite the whole town. ...Well, he is _very_ financially secure, the cost of the wedding is no objection. Maybe we can even hire that Ace of Cakes guy! ...No, he is _far_ richer than Steven was, don't be ridiculous, Phoebe, the way you ramble on."

Lizzy's eyes fell shut and she began counting backwards from 10. But a tremor was working its way into her fists and she wasn't sure if she could contain it—

Strong, warm arms wrapped themselves around her waist and Will pulled her to him so immediately that she yelped in surprise. Lizzy felt her frustration evaporating in a thin wisp of steam. She relaxed into him, smiling, and Will pressed a kiss to her cheek. "How are you surviving up here?" he asked, his voice a low hum against her neck.

Lizzy turned around in his arms and straightened the collar of his shirt. She was smiling broadly. "Just fine now that you're here. Did you let my dad win at pool?"

"Yes."

"Good. It is his birthday."

"Which is why I made him victor," said Will. "He doesn't need to know I was a pool hustler in college."

"I don't know why, but that turns me on," Lizzy replied under her breath. Will began to laugh and asked her if she needed any help in the kitchen.

"Will, where's Charlie?" asked Jane. She looked so domestic in her apron, her blonde hair pinned up into an elegant bun. Like a prettier, updated June Cleaver.

"I don't know. He was in the basement with us but then your dad brought up something about swearing him into the family, and how he had to take the Bennet blood oath..." Will ended the explanation in a shrug. "I think Charlie ran outside or something."

Jane sighed and marched into the basement. "Dad!"

Lizzy was smirking.

"It's difficult to tell when he's joking and when he isn't," Will admitted.

"Yeah, I know. I love it."

Theresa Bennet skirted by them, chuckling at an unheard joke Phoebe Lucas had told her. Lizzy resisted the urge to swat her with a spatula.

During dinner, it came up in conversation that Lizzy's new boyfriend was a lawyer. So great was the change in Mrs. Bennet that the three sisters could not help but groan to themselves. She inched towards him, fingers steepled under her chin. "Where do you practice law, Will? May I call you Will?"

"Oh my god. Can it, Ma!"

"Jane, you just sounded a little like Fran Drescher," mumbled Mr. Bennet with a dry chuckle. His booming voice was offset by the ill-fitting, lopsided orange birthday hat on his head. Lydia adjusted it for him. She had a pink one on; Gabe, a green.

Gabe, a newcomer to the craziness that was the Bennets, simply watched everybody around the dinner table with great interest, spooning mashed potatoes into his mouth.

Well wishes were given in honor of John. But then 30 minutes later, he raised his wine glass to toast Jane and Charlie. "Congratulations on your engagement, my beautiful Jane and her fiance, Charlie. May you have the greatest happiness. May you never take each other for granted." Jane smiled tearfully and Charlie thanked him. His voice grew a little quieter, "And most importantly, may you always be able to _respect_ one another, even after all the glitz and glamour of the marriage has faded."

There was a pause, short but heavy. Lizzy looked up at her dad. Her mother's voice chimed in to wish luck and happiness. They all clinked their glasses and drained them. "To Jane and Charlie!"

After dinner, Jane begged her parents to have a bonfire in the grilling pit, just as she did when she was 14 and her friends would come over for a sleepover. Her father laughingly obliged. And so, they all circled around the barren pit. Charlie, Gabe and Will helped Mr. Bennet gather firewood. Will tossed the match and the flame crackled to life, orange flumes swaying back and forth in the spring breeze. They all sat roasting marshmallows, laughing and talking.

The pool was still covered, as it was still too nippy, even for June. Lizzy huddled close to Will. He shrugged off his sweatshirt and pulled it over her shoulders.

"Last time we roasted marshmallows was by candlelight," Lizzy recalled.

"Oh yeah," Jane laughed. She had a quilt from the living room wrapped snugly around her body. "That power outage was terrible. And your sister was so cranky!"

"Caroline is always cranky," muttered Charlie, retrieving a marshmallow from the flame. He peeled the puckered charred skin from it and ate the center. "I still have to tell her about the engagement," he began to laugh, mid chew.

Jane's eyes grew wide. "Charlie! I thought you told her."

"Nope, just my parents."

"Oh god, what if she's unpleasant about it."

"I don't care. It's Caroline. She has a conniption every time Nordstrom's doesn't renew her 20% off coupons," he muttered. Lizzy erupted in a fit of laughter.

Caroline. _Being bridesmaids with you will be an experience_.

Jane seemed to gauge Lizzy's inner thoughts. She grimaced sympathetically, "I'm sorry, sweetie. But I'm thinking that I'll throw Charlotte into the mix. And maybe Georgiana, Will's sister. From what I've heard, she seems like a nice girl. What do you think, Will?"

"Sorry, what?" He looked up, having been preoccupied by the flames. Lizzy smiled and squeezed his shoulder. Jane repeated the question and he relaxed, nodding. "Oh, she would be thrilled. Just don't put her in an orange dress. Because that was the one I told her she looked unflattering in."

"Congratulations, you've given your sister a complex," Gabe said, making a s'more. He handed it to Lydia, who grinned at him. "But yeah, orange is not her color. I think she wore a tube top in that shade for one of our first gigs and Shoshanna tried to talk her out of it. The color washed her out on stage."

"That's all I said! And she hung up on me," Will scoffed.

"Women can hear it from other women," said Jane. "Not men. She asked your opinion so you could tell her that she looked pretty."

He sighed in frustration. "Then it's not my opinion."

She shrugged. "It is what it is."

"She's right," Lizzy tutted.

"Does anybody know any campfire songs?" asked Charlie.

"I'm going to go grab another soda," Lizzy got up, stretching. "Anybody want anything from the fridge, while I'm up?" Everybody seemed to want refills. Will got up to help her, following her up the stone pathway to the patio. She held open the screen door for him. "Close it. I don't want flies getting in."

"So bossy," Will shook his head.

"I am _not_," she swatted at his backside with his own sweatshirt.

They stepped into the kitchen. "So where's the cooler?"

"Over here," she called. He followed her out into the hall and stopped. Lizzy was on the second step of the staircase, peering down at him. "Well? Come on up."

"It's up there, huh?"

"Yeah, I refrigerate everything in my room. Don't you?" She took his hand and led him upstairs, Will chuckling behind her. The last room of the hallway was a small one, the walls painted lavender. Lizzy shut the door behind them. There was a standard queen sized bed with its white sheets pristinely tucked in, unused. Her old dresser was still there too, white with pink trim. "It's used for guests now, I think."

Will was perusing her bookshelf. He pulled out a thin pamphlet wedged between two Judy Blume novels. "Hmm. _Your Body and You!_ Interesting read."

Lizzy snatched it away, her ears turning bright red. "Seventh grade Lizzy was a hoarder."

"I bet you were cute."

"No. Gangly. Awkward. Freckled like my dad." She had pulled her hair over one shoulder and was threading her fingers through it now, her eyes downcast. Self-conscious in her memories.

Will shrugged. "If i knew you then, I would probably have still been crazy about you. And still scowling and surly in my delivery, don't worry."

Lizzy began to laugh, brightening. She watched him for awhile as he prodded at the soccer trophies on the top shelf of her bookcase. She felt a pull towards him then, a warmth that settled in her belly. Lizzy bit her lip and pretended to brush dust from the dresser.

Will was looking at her certificates from school. Then a photo of her and Jane as girls, coupled together in a giant teacup at Disney World. Lizzy was freckled and super smiley. Her sister's blonde hair was so bright it nearly shone white.

If he was being honest with himself, Will had to admit that he was a little jealous of the bond between the sisters. He adored Georgie, really he did. But he had always been her guardian of sorts. An older brother that bordered on parent, given their mother's passing and their dad's illness and all the extra responsibilities over the years. He loved her and would take a bullet for her without hesitation. But Charlie was the closest thing he had to a sibling his own age.

"Oh wait," Lizzy interrupted his reverie, smiling. "I didn't show you the best part. Lie down on my bed."

"What?" Will laughed, straightening.

"Just do it!"

He followed her command. She watched him stretch out on her bed, his feet threatening to hang over the edge of the mattress. Darcy was all long limbs. She wondered if his tuxedo would have to be tailored. "Okay, now what?" Will asked.

Lizzy shut the lights off and scrambled into bed with him. Above their heads, a constellation of glowing green, blue, and pink stars glimmered in the dark. Comets and meteor showers, as well as ringed planets and moons. Her bedroom was completely coated in solar systems. "My dad and I spent a whole _week_ sticking them all over my walls," she whispered. "Lydia was so jealous. So Mom bought her this giant unicorn pony thing at F.A.O Schwarz in the city. That shut her up."

Darcy grinned, his smile lost in the darkness. He turned to look at her. The glow cast soft shadows on her face. Lizzy held her hand up, her fingers tracing galaxies overhead. "Would be great for my classroom," she murmured to herself. "Not that we ever shut the lights off. Except for movies and when I put the overhead on." She looked at him. "Did you say something?"

"No," he shook his head. His hand found hers.

Lizzy smiled. "Thanks for coming here with me." They were both whispering, had been whispering since the lights were turned off.

"Of course." He kissed her gently, right at her temple. She brushed his hair back. Tentatively, Lizzy propped herself up on an elbow and reciprocated the kiss. Then she nestled up against him. He brought his arms around her.

A few minutes later, he was drifting and she roused him. "Hey, Will?" she whispered.

"Mm?"

She said it with full confidence. "I love you, too." Lizzy brought his hand up to her lips, and he pulled her in close.


	30. Kingdom Come

**A/N:** Hello, lovelies. I know it's been ages, but I finally have your epilogue. For further explanation as to my absence, you can find that information on my profile. In the meantime though, here's the sweet little cupcake of a finale to our story. Go get a glass of milk to wash it down with. Happy fall!

* * *

Lizzy sat on the bench with her legs crossed. She had a pumpkin spice latte in one hand and in her lap, Hemingway's _A Moveable Feast_ was open, familiar passages highlighted, though she had been reading the same page at least three times. She glanced up quickly, as she did every 30 seconds, to make sure that the little ginger boy rocketing back and forth on the swingset hadn't broken an ankle yet. Or two.

The toddler had lost momentum, his little legs struggling to hit the ground. Lizzy got up and brushed dirt off of her denim skirt. The leaves crunched under her boots and she inhaled deeply, savoring the crisp air of autumn. The boy wriggled in his seat and Lizzy laughed. "You want a push, Pete?"

He wriggled more and she pushed him lightly on the swing. A giggle tore out into the cool air. "Again!" Lizzy grinned.

God, his hair was _so_ red. It nearly blended in with the fall foliage. Pete Bingley was the spitting image of his father. He had Jane's big blue eyes though—her smile, too.

Lizzy got into a strange little routine of reading and pushing her nephew every two pages. Occasionally, she would stop to slip the highlighter out from behind her ear and make a note of something important. She had finally gotten used to being a student again; at least on the weekends, she could devote herself to her coursework. When the Bingleys didn't need babysitting, that was. It was ambitious of her, and extremely daunting—she wasn't sure that she could do it originally. Teach part-time and work towards her Master's degree in evening and online classes. But if not now, when?

She had six months left. Just six months. She looked down. Hopefully that would be enough.

Her phone buzzed and Lizzy fished for it in the pocket of her leather jacket. "Hello?"

"_When are you coming home?_" Darcy asked her, affronted.

She grinned. "Why? Miss me already?"

"_I always miss you, Lizzy. It's a damn shame that you have so much power over me._"

"Fear me," she said casually. She gave Pete another push and he laughed boisterously. "I'm cheating on you with Pete for the morning. But I'll be on the 3 o'clock train out of Trenton, all right? If you can get Chinese takeout for dinner, I will love you forever. I'm in no mood to cook tonight."

"_It's done. Is Pete better than me?_"

"Well, he's very cute. But I like my men _tall_," Lizzy teased. She heard Will's warm, deep chuckle from the other end and felt a strong desire to pull him close to her. Be near him always. "Did you drive Georgie back home yet?"

"_I did. She has to get ready for her internship in D.C._"

"Mm." Pete began to fuss and cry, so Lizzy cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder and scooped him up, jogging him on her hip. "What's the matter, sweet boy? What's got you so down? Are you hungry?"

"_I'm okay, actually. The game's on so I've just been watching that, eating chips. I've got a little bit of indigestion—_"

"Not _you_," Elizabeth laughed.

"_Damn Pete._"

"Your godson."

"_Whatever._"

They met Jane at the corner Starbucks down in Newbury. She had finally taken up an appointment to get her haircut. It was shorn to her chin now, sleek and honey blonde. "Very nice," Lizzy grinned, handing Pete over. "Here's your child."

"Oh, thanks. I was wondering where I put him." Jane peppered her boy's face with kisses. "Petey, were you nice for Aunt Lizzy?"

He reached for her dangly earring and deposited it in his mouth.

"If he can't eat your question, he's not interested," Lizzy deadpanned. "You guys heading home?"

"Yeah. Charlie's waiting for us, watching football. He even bought this itty bitty little jersey for Pete. I think he's Skyping his commentary with Will now," Jane raised her eyebrows. "It's really, really sad."

"Those losers—I didn't know they were _Skyping_."

"Seriously."

"Unbelievable."

"Did Will ask you to marry him today?" Jane teased. Lizzy glared at her.

It was becoming a sort of game between them over the past two years. The first time Lizzy turned Will down, it had been devastating for him. They had been on a long romantic walk on the beach at nighttime. He had thrown his jacket over her shoulders when she grew cold, and she found the little black velvet jewelry box in its canvas pocket. _No_ had come out almost immediately.

She loved him. She loved him with all her heart and she didn't want anybody else. But she felt frazzled financially. She felt like she didn't have her professional life in order and wanted to teach at a college level. There was so much that she wanted to accomplish before settling down, and she didn't want his help.

So Will would have to wait.  
And wait he did.

Except he _did_ begin to ask half-heartedly every couple of months. And in truly unromantic ways like, through the bathroom door or in the laundromat or when Lizzy's car was in the shop getting an oil change.

"No," Lizzy said patiently.

"I really wish he would hurry up and make that grand gesture again," Jane said. "I _finally_ lost the last five pounds of baby weight and I feel like I would rock that maid of honor dress really, really well." A beat, "Basically, you can see my waist again and I'm excited."

"So this is all about _you_, then."

"Yeah, of course."

Pete leaned towards Lizzy fussily, crying. She took him into his arms. "Pete! You are so needy."

"You definitely have a way with him," Jane smiled. "You're gonna make an awesome mom someday."

Lizzy looked up, smiled demurely at her sister and handed her nephew back to his mother.

The train from Trenton was relatively empty. Lizzy rested her head on her backpack and curled on the brown leather seat and half dozed. Her arms settled around her lower belly and she pursed her lips, thinking, thinking, thinking.

She took a cab to the apartment from Penn Station. The lobby to the elevator. Pressed "PH" and walked down the hall to her left, fiddling with her keys. Will was at his desk, in front of his laptop. The Eagles versus the Giants was on in the background, but he was working. His black frames were on the tip of his nose. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to his elbows. He brightened immediately when he saw her.

"Hello," she dropped a kiss on his mouth, "my hard-working boyfriend."

"I do what I can."

Lizzy pulled off her scarf and shrugged out of her jacket. "Jane told me that you and Charlie were _Skyping_," she shot him a withering look. "I can't even get you to Skype with _me_ when I'm back home on the weekends."

"I thought _this_ was your home," Will tutted. Lizzy was sitting on the arm of the sofa now and he had gotten up and was standing in front of her now. He fingered the end of her braid.

"Don't pull that shit with me," Lizzy laughed. "You know what I mean."

"When I am I gonna get you out of this apartment and off to Pemberley?" he asked. "That's home."

"When I've gotten my Master's and I can find a job down there," Elizabeth said gently.

"Wait, seriously?" he blinked. "You would consider it?"

"Yes." She slid her hands up his chest. "This is nice. Cashmere? Who bought this?"

"You did."

"I have really good taste."

"Yes, you do," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her.

She pulled away shortly, leaving Will hovering. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Now?" Will looked puzzled. "Chinese food's gonna get cold. It's in the kitchen."

"We'll microwave it. Come on. Please?" she jutted out her lower lip.

They were outside within minutes. Will stood sulking outside the brownstone, his hands stuffed in his coat pockets. "I feel like you have woman sorcery skills and I don't understand how they work."

She tugged him along. They took their usual route, about a mile and a half from where they lived, past their dry cleaners, and their favorite Russian deli. Lizzy had grown used to the nuances of the city. Living here had once been unthinkable. It was so abrasive, so loud and harried and impersonal in New York. But Will loved it, and she loved him. Adding a proper dose of femininity to his apartment had actually been _fun_. The penthouse had been so clean and zen and minimalist in the past. Now it was cozy. Messy, but cozy.

Of course, they couldn't stay there forever.

"So, what's up?" Will asked. He had been walking faster than her and had slowed now so she could catch up, because he had long legged person problems. "Did you not have a good time with Jane?"

"Oh, of course I did. I missed her a lot."

"You miss Pennsylvania, too," Will said softly.

Lizzy shrugged. "I do and I don't. I like it here with you much better."

"Then what's the problem?"

"No problem, I just... I've been thinking that maybe we need a bigger place," Lizzy said tentatively.

"Bigger." Will stopped walking and raised his eyebrows. "_Pemberley_ bigger? Why now? I've brought it up so many times before but you were never very keen on it."

Lizzy looked up at him earnestly, her green eyes wide. "I miss Nan's cooking."

"That is _bull_shit," Will said, but he was laughing. Nan Reynolds did cook phenomenally. "_Lizzy._"

"I'm pregnant."

He actually looked stupid now. "What?"

Lizzy mimed orbiting a planet on her abdomen. "You know. Spherical. With child."

"Oh my god," Will ran a hand through his hair.

They were both silent for a good stretch of seconds. Darcy stared at her flat, yet-to-be-inflated abdomen and Lizzy chewed on her lower lip and looked off into the distance. "Your lack of response besides panic is really making me nervous right now," she said quickly.

And then he drew her in in such a wide, tight embrace that he lifted Lizzy off of her feet. "Bigger house?" she began to laugh, tears springing to her eyes.

"Bigger house," he breathed against her hair. "Yeah, yeah, definitely bigger house."

"I'm good with Pemberley if you are."

"We're gonna have a baby," Will said, shocked. He was beaming.

"We are gonna have a baby."

"Are you gonna let me _marry_ you already?" Will demanded, pulling away. He was breathless and his blue eyes were impossibly bright.

Lizzy paused. Then she nodded vigorously. "Yeah."

"I feel like you're shitting me right now. Is this all some twisted joke tonight, because if it is, I will _never_ ever forgive you—"

"I am not _shitting_ you. I am on board," Lizzy hit him on the chest. "I'm marrying you, and we're having a baby. Do you still have the ring in your sock drawer?"

"Yeah, I..." Will's eyes narrowed. "Wait, you knew the ring was in the sock drawer?"

"Well, it was only a little better than your last hiding spot by the mail stack."

"Damn it," he swore.

"And then the month before that, in Richard's dining room cabinet. He told me that one."

"Fucking Richard."

"I love you," Lizzy said quietly. She smiled up at him and pulled him down for a kiss.

He pressed his cheek to hers and encircled her in his arms. "I love you back."


End file.
